Perfect Happy Ending
by Claire-ful
Summary: It really did seem like a perfect happy ending, the way that Tecna managed to survive the Omega with no repercussions. However, regardless of the fact that they were actually fairies, such endings only happen in fairytales, and fairytales were not reality. Rated a strong T for later chapters.
1. they found each other

A/N: So... this was supposed to be a short drabble for practice, but said drabble ended up being the (planned) last chapter of this fic that has earned the nickname of monstrosity amongst my circle of friends, for reasons that will be revealed later! This was originally going to be the first chapter of this fic, which has 7 planned chapters, 5 of which including this one have been prewritten. As always, please do tell me if someone is being glaringly OOC or if you've noticed a grammar/syntax mistake that I didn't. With that being said, enjoy!

* * *

Timmy's reflection stared back at him, casting a constant reminder of how alone he really was.

The cold chill of the Omega was not enough to put out the spark of hope that had consumed him, and he remained so desperately _optimistic_ because his mind couldn't even entertain the other possibility. He knew that logically the mission had a low chance of success, and they barely had the faintest idea of what they were doing. But still he had trudged on, and the rest of his ragtag gang had followed him with almost matched enthusiasm.

That is, until the convicts ambushed them.

Now he was stuck with Brandon and Helia behind a miserably thick ice barrier that prevented them from escaping, and the girls were nowhere to be found. Ironically, they were now the ones who needed rescuing.

As one might be able to tell, their rescue mission was going marvellously.

Brandon and Helia were still knocked out cold and had barely even stirred from what Timmy had seen from when he woke up. The only indication that they were still alive was the steady puffs of breath that somehow still stood out from the endless sea of blues and whites around them. What's even worse is that their weapons were nowhere to be seen, including his priced laser gun.

Not to mention the transmitter. His one and only hope in finding the girl who had stolen his heart.

He closed his eyes. He hadn't seen her in almost a month, save for stills captured in memorials for a person who wasn't even dead. They were still incomparable to the fairy that they depicted, lacking the spunk and colour of the subject matter, a pale imitation of her spirit captured in technicolour.

He missed her.

She took with her half of his world, snuffing out the light that she had introduced. It _hurt_ , to have been woken up in the middle of the night to be told that your girlfriend had passed. Their explanation had made sense, she'd given her life force up against unforeseen negative forces for the safety of an entire realm, falling in the process powerless and drained. By all logic, it meant that she was dead. Deceased. Never to return.

But some inconceivably foolish voice inside of him insisted she was still out there somewhere. That she had held up on her own against the most hardened criminals who in no doubt would take no pity against a defenceless fairy. It's not that he doubted her – she was more than capable of taking care of herself – but rationally it's a tad bit excessive to insist on an outcome that has the odds stacked infinitely against them. Yet, he just _knew_ that she had been out there somewhere.

He'd said it himself yesterday, spilling his heart out to the slim threads of hope that came in the form of the locator. _I'm totally in love with her_ , he had said, tears leaking down his face as the warm glow of her memory faded to the harsh reality. Faded into the reality where she might be gone. He hadn't even gotten the chance to tell her that in person.

Love. A force that directly opposed logic, an emotion that stood strong without any basis behind it. By all reasoning, by all the principles he had grown up alongside, love should have been the last thing he follows. It followed no formulas, leaving someone vulnerable and defenceless at the hands of the person who can do irreparable damage, so what was the point of this… emotion?

Love has the most uncertain basis for its existence, but Timmy is completely certain that he loves her. Tecna.

Love, the reason he was on this flame-forsaken planet. Love, the dying sparks of hope that left him clinging to the faintest of possibilities. Love, the only reason he kept pushing on, searching for the soothing warmth.

Mushy as it might sound, it was the only driving force behind his fervent efforts. And Timmy was as sure as hell not going to let it go to waste.

He paid no mind to the shadows lurking in the corner.

A groan brought him back to the Omega. "Where in the realms are we?" Brandon slurred, groggy. Timmy could hear his teeth chattering.

"It looks like some sort of cell," one thing's for sure, it was definitely no luxurious accommodation given the freezing temperatures.

"I guess this is some weird role reversal thing happening," Brandon noted. He gestured to the back of the cave, "look, we even have our own personal guard in here!"

True to Brandon's words, a convict stood at the far end of the cave they were in, brandishing a rifle and some sort of... hunting knife? How they even managed to arm themselves were beyond Timmy. _They did just drop off convicts unsupervised in a perfectly functional biome_. Looking back at it now with first-hand experience, the Omega was a pretty bad idea.

Timmy sighed and leant back against the frigid ice. "Let's face it, this mission so far is a complete disaster. We're trapped in here, Helia's still knocked out cold, the girls have gone missing and we haven't seen so much as a hair of Tecna!"

"We found her transmitter, though. It's a start. Sure, we've might have had a few hiccups so far, but we're Specialists, we'll find a way out of this!"

Her transmitter. Timmy had completely forgotten about finding the device right before the convicts had ambushed their group. He furrowed his brows. It couldn't have just been a coincidence since the convicts had appeared almost the instant that they found the device. Timmy was about certain that they had put it there as a trap. But why?

"Brandon, speaking of the transmitter, do you think that it was purely coincidence that we got ambushed the moment after we found it?" it couldn't hurt to get a second opinion. He needed to sort his mind out and view things calmly.

"To tell you the truth, it did seem like a trap. I mean, this is Tecna we're talking about. Would she leave her prized gadgets out in the open, just like that? The only time she'd ever leave them would be if she was nearby, which she clearly wasn't since she didn't help, or if she was– "

Timmy's face suddenly looked even more downcast than it was previously. "Yeah, if she– if she was gone."

The silence was deafening afterwards. It weighed heavily on both of their minds, on how they were completely in the dark about the fate of the technology fairy. The only form of contact that they'd had was a short message from her, and as much as Brandon wished all was fine, he had his misgivings on the nature of the message. It was too polished, too _emotionless_ for someone that had been left alone on a vicious planet full of hostile enemies. He had a sinking feeling in his gut that that message was not actually from Tecna.

Near Brandon, Helia finally started to stir. Unlike Brandon, Helia seemed to get a grip on his surroundings rather quickly and was up sitting not long after.

"Let me guess, we're in a big jam and we can only rely on a miracle to save us now," Helia stated flatly after taking in the predicament.

"That's about right," Brandon shrugged it off. Frankly, he'd gotten used to it after the second year.

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Because we do something like this almost every other week and have almost died every single time?"

"You have a point there," Helia sighed, his breath frost-white.

"So what do we do now?" Timmy interjected. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm not exactly happy to be sitting around in here while Tecna and the girls could be freezing to their deaths."

Brandon's face lost the teasing look. "You're right, we've gotta break out of this place."

Helia moved over to pick up a shard of ice. "It's not gonna be so easy," he warned, the ice now grating against the floor as he detailed their surroundings.

Timmy felt a pang of embarrassment, he'd been too focused on his own emotions to actually do something about his situation. Thank the Great Dragon that Helia was still sane.

"Those thugs stand between us," more painful squeaks, akin to chalk being dragged over a blackboard, "and the cave's exit."

Brandon's eyes darted around the room. "There's just the three of us, we don't have any weapons and those guys don't look like reasonable types," sighing, he shifted his weight in an attempt to keep his limbs intact from frostbite. What were they thinking jet-setting off without winter clothes?

The air seemed to get even colder, however impossible it might seem. To Timmy, it felt as if the temperature had managed to go below absolute zero.

"They're total barbarians! They've turned the Omega Dimension into their own personal kingdom!" it's not that Timmy expected them to be cheery guests who smiled as they frolicked around the ice landscape, but he expected them to show at least a little civilisation to the planet. Up to this point he'd assumed that the Omega had _some_ sort of guardianship going on keeping the convicts in check, but he was getting increasingly proved wrong.

Helia stroked his chin thoughtfully. "It looks like they all broke out of their ice prisons and then took over this part of the dimension," he said, yet again proving that he had well earned the title of the group's unofficial peacemaker.

"Guys," worry seeped into Brandon's voice, "we've _got_ to get out of here and find the girls."

At the very least, Timmy realised that they had gotten the better deal. They were relatively safe in this... cave, and the convicts didn't seem to want to kill them anytime soon. The fairies had fallen into a cliff – despite their wings, which led him to believe that some sort of energy was interfering with their magic – and they might have been ambushed. They might've not even–

"Oh man," Brandon continued, speaking for all of them, "I sure hope they're okay..."

That's just the thing. Timmy found it odd, how the convicts didn't seem to care in the slightest about what had happened to the girls. At the very least, he'd expect them to showcase _some_ sort of interest in the obviously very powerful fairies that had accompanied them, and use them as some sort of bargaining chip. Not to mention the fact that Timmy was just plain confused at why the convicts have kept them alive.

"Have you guys wondered why they haven't tried killing us yet?"

"...Yeah, that does seem kinda weird now that you think of it," A thoughtful look crossed Brandon's face. "Think about it, what could they possibly gain from simply trapping us here without even bothering to learn our identities?"

They had packed light for the trip (which was pretty obvious considering none of them had worn warm clothes), and they didn't have any special weapons or an extravagant amount of food supplies for that matter on board–

"The ship!" Horror dawned on all three of them as they came to the same conclusion.

They've really done it this time.

* * *

"This time, I'm going to win!"

"Sure, Brandon, just like all the other times you said you were."

Heroics 101 didn't exactly teach one what to do when imprisoned and left forgotten in an ice coffin, so Brandon and Helia had decided to take their mind off of the less than favourable situation with a rousing game of Tic-Tac-Toe. Timmy had foregone the distraction, instead choosing to monitor the surroundings.

The Omega was just so... plain. An endless plateau of ice seemed to stretch for miles in either direction, and the lack of colour was driving Timmy insane. But somehow, beneath the layers of frost and insanity the Omega still held some sort of charm to it, the glistening of the air somehow hauntingly beautiful. It's such a pity, really, how the planet's been turned into a desolate wasteland.

With every convict that marched around the perimeter of the cave, Timmy could just barely learn about the system that seemed to have been set into place. Grudgingly he had to give some respect to them since they did manage to form some sort of working system within a chaotic mess of organisation. One thing he's learnt about criminals is that they don't take kindly to being bossed around, and yet here they were somewhat quietly carrying out tasks for what can undeniably be called their boss.

That was the very fact that ate Timmy alive. He knew just what danger a single convict could pose, given that these were the most dangerous criminals to have ever lived in the magical dimension, imagine an entire organised faction! With such a diverse repertoire amongst the population there could be no doubt that they would be deadly combined, and a single being would be hard-pressed to stand a chance of survival amongst them.

And the transmitter. Great Dragon, the transmitter.

He couldn't get rid of the sight of the blue device, quite expertly placed amongst a bunch of icicles to blend in. Now that things have gotten a chance to calm down, he could see all the things that were wrong with it. For instance, Tecna was smarter than putting it out in the open despite the camouflage. She'd have kept it with her at all costs if it were her only shot of getting out of there. Timmy was certain that she had not put it there.

Only convicts lived on this planet, aside from Tecna. He could guess that they placed it there. But then, what had happened to Tecna?

Was she... even alive?

Timmy was not the only one fearing the worst. Brandon's smile as he drew a circle on the ground was forced, and Helia's hair was falling out of the tie he had had it in. It was something in general vicinity of the Omega Dimension that left them all on edge, some invisible force that was crushing all the positivity out of their souls.

Timmy didn't know how much longer their group could last.

A flash of activity caught his eye. What's going on?

"Helia, Brandon, look," Timmy hissed under his breath. He didn't want to alert the convict in the cave– wait, where had he gone?

The sound of metal clashing resonated within the chamber. "Ouch," Brandon whistled, "hope that wasn't one of our girls."

"Unlikely, none of the girls can wield metal or have any on them. Except maybe Tecna," Helia added as an afterthought.

The unmistakable buzz of electricity crackling filled the air. _Electricity_.

Could it–?

Timmy's train of thought smashed into a wall as a new voice piped up.

"Hey guys, are you alright?"

Timmy had died and gone to heaven. That would explain Tecna's gossamer wings that caught the light as she walked up to the ice barrier separating them.

"Tecna!" he tentatively reached a hand, scared that it was all a vision too good to be true. But she never blurred, never wavered, her form fully solid and _oh, he could cry right then and there._

"Timmy," she said breathlessly, trailing the surface of the ice. They were _so_ close. "Just give me a sec, I'll get you out of there!"

Tecna's eyes were locked into Timmy's gaze, and Timmy could see the reflection of his own relief in her teal eyes. Green lit up the area as she charged up her spell, her eyes still not leaving Timmy's–

Which proved to be a fatal mistake.

"Watch out!" Timmy was a split second too late as he watched the chains of the convict wind around Tecna's wrist, causing her spell to fire wildly, barely missing her own hair.

She shrieked, caught by surprise. Timmy could do nothing but watch as she was dragged away, could do nothing but stare in horror as their saviour was dragged off on her knees.

"You beast!" Timmy could hear the raw anguish in Tecna's voice. They were so close to being free, and now they were shackled again to reality.

Everything blurred as Timmy slammed his fists onto the ice in a desperate attempt to break free. "Let her go!" he screamed, his voice cracking in a futile bid to help. Tears stung his eyes again as she was yanked closer to the convict's arms.

Through the haze of it all, the glint of the convict's sharp dagger was unmistakable.

The convict was going to kill her.

And Timmy was going to have to watch.

"No!" tears of fury rolled down his face and almost immediately froze. He tore at the ice, his nails stinging at the burning sensation. This was completely unfair.

He could only watch, watch in horror as Tecna's eyes flashed pure terror as the dagger moved towards her. Timmy balled his fists against the mocking barrier, his mouth frozen agape in despair at the cruel hand of cards fate had thrown at them.

 _No_...

Sudden heat bloomed in front of him, almost camouflaging the sound of a metal boomerang hitting its target.

Bloom and Sky. He could kiss them.

Bloom had blasted open the ice barrier, leaving a hole big enough for the trapped Specialists to escape. Sky had taken the liberty of knocking the convict out, and he now lay sprawled on the ground in front of them.

Timmy wasted no time in clearing the melting hole in the barrier and running over to Tecna, who was now swaying on her feet. She sensed his approach and looked at him with a weak smile.

"I'm glad you're okay–"

She didn't get a chance to finish her sentence as Timmy silenced her with a kiss. A whole host of emotions was swirling inside of Timmy as she returned the kiss with matched glee, her lips pressing against his with vigour.

Timmy didn't know when he had started crying, but he did know that he hadn't cried that much since childhood; tears streamed down his face as he held onto Tecna like there was no tomorrow. Tecna burrowed her head into his shoulders, and he could tell that he wasn't alone in crying.

It seemed like the perfect happy ending.


	2. standing, entwined

A/N: I finally updated! I haven't had the chance to do so before, sorry about that. Thank you to all the reviewers, followers and favourites, and even people who read the first chapter! It got more attention than I anticipated. My attempt at mushy dates took much more effort than I anticipated, hahaha. Any resemblance to real-life games was completely coincidental, and I hope the attempt at fluff was good enough! Romance and I mix like oil and water. So, the rest of the fic will probably be in Tecna's POV (kind of, since I wrote in third person) and will derail from canon. Seriously, buckle up, since we're going off-canon as of now! This chapter is not as bad as the ones after, but a bit of a warning for touching on PTSD. With that said, enjoy!

* * *

Tecna revelled at the sensation of the sun on her skin. She'd definitely taken the warmth for granted before the… previous month, but now she spent much of her time outdoors, much to the delight of Flora (and Stella), who'd wasted no time in dragging her to Alfea's park and Magix's Beach.

It's not that Tecna didn't appreciate her friends, but they've been especially clingy ever since her return. She didn't exactly desire to be in the centre of attention more often than she already was, yet it seemed as if she had no say in this matter. She's lost track of the number of times Bloom had barged into her room in the guise for 'girl time' or the number of times everyone's attention snapped to hers when she commented on the most trivial things, which was a feat in itself given her ability to keep track of numbers far larger than the normal fairy could.

Peace and quiet were getting increasingly rare, so Tecna decided to take advantage of the fact that the other Winx were serving time in detention for a failed tryst in breaking into Cloud Tower to spend some time in the courtyards of Alfea. Classes were over for the week, leaving her with a mostly empty schedule. What better way to spend the time than catching up with missed news in the sunlight?

"Magix Daily" thankfully kept archives of every single article they had ever published, and finding the articles for October took little effort. Unsurprisingly, most of the coverage was focused on Andros, and interdimensional teams were also featured in the commentary section of the newspaper, something that hasn't happen ever since the Fall of Domino.

Since the Fall of Domino. Ice-cold panic spread through her veins. Were her actions in vain? Layla hasn't mentioned anything but…

Tecna's shaking hands landed on an article that mentioned both her realm and Layla's.

 _TENSIONS SOAR BETWEEN ZENITH AND ANDROS_

 _The sacrifice made by the Alfean student has been met with controversy from the kingdom of Zenith, citing that the fairy in question was "given no choice in face of the odds presented [against her]"._

 _A representative from the High Council of Interplanetary Affairs of Zenith released a statement soon after the Andros-Omega Incident, at a press conference attended by over 200 representatives from many neighbouring planets._

 _"It is with great sorrow that Zenith mourns the death of one of our own, especially one with a bright future ahead of her," spoken to an audience estimated at about 500 million through live broadcasting, Caleph Inventi represented the kingdom of Zenith. "Tecna Vitalia was a courageous soul whose contributions to the entire Magical Dimension were exemplary, even more so given her young age. It is without a doubt that she had many more to give, had it not been for her premature death at Andros. Indeed, her life was given for a noble cause, and Zenith commends her rationality in the face of the circumstances, since many of a great man and woman would have fled when given no choice in the face of the odds presented."_

 _In Zenithian news outlets, coverage of the Andros-Omega Incident boomed, and a record number of interplanetary officials were sent to Andros in an attempt to sort out the paperwork that had resulted. An official confirmation of death is needed for Andros to be able to release certain information on the last movements of the deceased, and it is unknown whether Zenith and Andros will be able to reach to an agreement._

 _Back on Zenith, public opinion of Andros has dropped drastically. In a rare showcase of emotion, public outcries at the Androsian Embassy called for the recognition of the fairy, who had been largely regarded as a public heroine._

 _"This situation is logically unfound," stated one of the protesters at the scene. "Veneranda Vitalia had given her life to save their [Andros] kingdom, yet she has been given none of the recognition she deserves!" It is also well worth to note that many of the attendees had given Vitalia the title of 'Veneranda', an ancient Zenithian honorific for those who had escalated to status through selfless deeds._

 _There were also calls for Andros to destroy the Omega Portal, citing safety concerns. This disquiet was not limited to the Zenithians, as many other realms had joined the protest, including but not limited to the Linphean Liberian Society and the Royal Kingdom of Solaria. No comment had been made from the heads of said realms. Flora Phyllis and Princess Stella Solaris has also been silent on this matter, the Winx members hailing from the realms._

 _In an attempt to quell the public backlash Andros has faced from Zenith, the royal family has released several statements regarding the sacrifice of the Zenithian. "Andros is indebted to Zenith, for without the courage of one of your own, our kingdom would not be where it is today," King Teredor was reported to have said. "We offer our deepest condolences to everyone affected, as this was not the situation we wanted to happen. Other options were entertained before the tragic outcome, which was in no way influenced by Tebok the Wise or the Crown Princess of Andros."_

 _Tensions remain fraught between the two kingdoms, despite peace making attempts over the past month. The odds of a full interplanetary dispute, however, is unlikely._

Tecna let out a shaky breath that she didn't even realise she was holding. Andros was safe. Zenith hasn't fallen in a war against Andros. Thank Arcadia.

Why were hands still shaking then?

Her knuckles turned snow-white as she gripped her PDA, trying to find some traces of technomagic to calm her down. Despite the temperature outside, Tecna couldn't help but suppress a shiver. The matter was not helped by the fact that she could detect any of the familiar warmth of a pulsing circuit.

It felt frozen to the touch, as if it was made out of ice.

 _Crudely carved components of a device, the familiar hum of magic her final, desperate call for help. Numb limbs, numb heart, numb mind lost in the depths of despair. Footsteps echoing behind her, thudding and almost bringing her to her knees. A presence behind her robbing her of words when all she wanted to do was scream_ _–_

She blinked.

Tecna got up from the bench. It was too cold outside, she mused, as the light dazzled her line of sight.

* * *

The door of Tecna's shared dorm slammed open an hour later, and Musa stormed in and flopped on her bed without so much of a greeting.

"How was detention?" The other girls had managed to earn themselves detention after sneaking out in an attempt to rid the world of Valtor. A real cherry on the top to almost getting killed, really.

Musa groaned in response. "I don't even wanna talk about it. Stella spent more time coming up with ways to make cleaning up the library easier than actually helping! And I swear on the Great Dragon, the restricted section is more disorganised than the main section even though barely anyone's even allowed to _use_ it!"

"You must be good friends with Barbatea now. Think she'd offer you a job after you graduate?"

Musa laughed. "Nah, she'd sooner leave the Trix in charge. Do you know how many times she almost turned me into a frog because, quote un-quote, I 'disrespected the integrity of the arrangement'?"

For the first time in the last hour, a smile spread on Tecna's face. Out of all the Winx, she shared the strongest bond with Musa, something which was returned by her. Somehow Musa always knew when Tecna was feeling a little moody, and she never failed to make her feel better. Thankfully Musa also had the sense to give Tecna space when she really needed it.

"Also, before I forget," Musa paused for dramatic effect, "a certain Specialist is waiting for you downstairs. You probably shouldn't keep him waiting!"

"Really?" she was genuinely surprised. Timmy hadn't mentioned anything to her. "You sure?"

"Pretty there's no one else we know that has ginger hair, wears spectacles and answers to the name of 'Timmy'."

"You have a point there," Tecna agreed somewhat distractedly as she attempted to try and make herself presentable after the rather unsettling situation outside. She was almost out the door when Musa piped up.

"Oh yeah, Stella and the other girls want to go downtown to celebrate tomorrow," Musa suddenly said, a peculiar expression on her face that usually indicated that she was choosing her words carefully. "You comin'?"

Truth be told, after what had happened in the courtyard the idea of spending time outside of the comfort of roofs and centralised heating didn't seem too appealing, but it would be rude to turn down the invite. After all, they were probably celebrating her return anyways.

"Sure, why not? Haven't been to downtown in æons."

"Great! Now go, I don't think Griselda'll be too pleased to catch him outside supposedly loitering around."

"Yes ma'am!" Tecna mocked, and she closed the door to Musa's uproarious laughter.

* * *

Timmy was indeed waiting for her near the entrance of Alfea, just as Musa had said he was. Taking advantage of the fact that he wasn't facing her, Tecna decided to have a little fun.

"Excuse me, young man," Tecna did her best impression of Griselda, but the grin on her face severely contradicted the attempt of a strict demeanour, "but what do you think you're doing here?"

Tecna had to bite back her laughter as Timmy whirled around quickly, but once she saw that Timmy realised who she actually was she couldn't help but chuckle.

"I should feel bad, but you're just too adorable," She grinned as she went over to greet her boyfriend with a hug.

"And I should probably hate you for what you just pulled on me but I'm forgiving," the panic now gone from his face, Timmy returned the embrace whole-heartedly. "Not to mention that I did, well, kind of miss you."

It was true, Tecna hadn't seen him in a week, partially because of the fact that Red Fountain was now on high alert. All the Specialists had been cooped up at school ever since their little rescue mission, something that Stella took every opportunity to complain about. Tecna couldn't blame Red Fountain for taking precautions; after all, it was the only school to have so far not taken much damage in the ongoing conflict.

"So, what brings you here? Good news, I hope?"

"Depends on what you think is good news, really," Timmy suddenly shied away, nudging his glasses up his nose. "I hope, um, it is."

"I'm not going to bite you; I doubt that would be in my or your best interest," laughing, she gently shoved him.

"Yeah, that would certainly be illogical. Well, what I really wanted to do was ask you whether you wanted to try the new game at the Magix Arcade, I've been meaning to ask you but…"

An awkward silence passed. Tecna didn't even know that a new game was released. Consequences of being gone for about a month, she figured. The odds of her not missing out on anything major was next to nil, anyways. She _did_ miss out a barely-avoided inter-realm war (which was on the account of her too), so a new release barely counts.

"Sounds fun, shall we?"

"Of course," Timmy started, before halting suddenly. "that is, if you're feeling up for it."

"Sorry?"

"You look awfully pale today now that I think about it Tec," a frown creased his features, "I won't take it personally if you refuse."

Tecna blinked. She hadn't noticed at all. Nothing had been out of the ordinary other than the little… episode an hour ago, but she'd rather not mention that lest Timmy lapses into his worrying mood.

"I'm perfectly fine, Timmy."

"Are you sure? After all, you did just retur _–_ "

Tecna cut him off before he could finish his sentence. "I'll be fine, don't worry."

 _I'll be fine, don't worry. Sent message, double ticks flashed blue, then a fizzling black. She was alone, trapped and lost. Even her faithful companion had abandoned her to the howling winds._

She didn't catch the worried look Timmy cast her before he started the engines.

* * *

Magix couldn't even come close to Zenith's advancements in technology and discovery, but if she didn't give them credit for their arcade she'd be in plain denial. Somehow Magix's Arcade managed to get their hands on whatever new release, sometimes even before Zenith, the realm where most of such technology originated from. From what they say, it's a little trading quirk that never quite wore off after the first stages of the Zenith/Magix trading relationship, but if you asked Tecna it was more like a strategical decision on Zenith. Magix did play host to many strong figureheads, more than Zenith since its very, 'modern' viewpoint might have turned away some of the more traditional kingdoms, so it's somewhat free exposition.

Tecna just counts herself lucky, to have something that reminded her of her home realm, and of course a boyfriend who enjoyed them as much as she did.

The harsh lights that lit up the place greeted her as she walked in the complex located in Magix's central mall. Same old white lights, it seemed. What exactly was she expecting, though? It's not like they would have managed a complete overhaul of the entire place within the time span of a month.

But it still felt different, somehow. Foreign.

Timmy stopped, turning back to Tecna. "So, what do you want to do first?"

"How about we go and check out the newest edition you were talking about?"

"Sounds good," He broke into a grin, "but don't expect me to go easy on you just because I'm a little out of shape."

Tecna let out a good-natured huff. "In your dreams. You couldn't even win if you'd been practicing for days on end!"

It's true, for all the times they've played together at this particular series –79.5, since one time they've managed to crash the entire system after inputting too many variables at once – Tecna'd won every single one of them. What could she say, she did specialise at _Wizards and Warlocks_ and had played all five versions that had been out (and also held the title of being the only person who was able to beat Timmy at it).

Timmy, being the good-natured person he was, didn't mind too badly, although he did pout a few times after Tecna just barely won the match, but it wasn't anything that he ruminated over after a consolation kiss.

Today was no different, except for the fact that there was a new edition of _Wizards and Warlocks_ that Tecna hasn't played. That came out a _month_ ago. How _unheard_ of.

"It's even now, since both you and I haven't played it so who knows?"

Tecna grabbed the first holographic panel, and grinned devishly. "How different can it be?"

"What's different is that you're going down, _dear_!"

The game started fairly simply enough, with Tecna taking lead after a well-aimed spell caused Timmy's sprite to stumble. She let herself get lost in the game, the mechanics well familiar even with the updated graphics. The holograms were like second nature to her, an extension of her affinity for technology. A light smile spread on her face as she commanded her sprite to move, fully expecting the move to work.

The surprise on Tecna's face as her shields were penetrated by a jab almost caused Timmy to lose his concentration.

Even more so after Timmy actually managed to land a hit, and another. He managed to bypass all her blocking spells, and Tecna watched in horror as her health bar flashed red.

Then the screen faded away.

"Huh?"

"I… didn't thank that would work, to be completely honest," Timmy's mouth was slightly agape, as he pushed up his glasses to take a better look.

"Well… Congratulations, new champion," Tecna exaggerated a bow towards Timmy, who still seemed to not fully comprehend his first win against his girlfriend.

"Thank y–"

Timmy's phone cut him off. "Sorry, Tec, it's one of the guys."

His face changed expressions, and Tecna felt a twinge of concern. Timmy shut his phone, regret on his face.

"Who was that?"

"Headmaster Saladin needed some help with the new negative energy detector he's gotten from Zenith, and seeing that you are a fairy of technology he thought it would be best to have you take a look at it. Do you mind tagging along?"

"I don't have much else to do, anyways." Tecna replied, already gathering her belongings. "But what exactly happened?"

"See, it's been giving off intense readings at random intervals, but they've all turned out to be false alarms. I've scoured the coding alongside the teachers, but nothing unusual has come up, which lead us to believe that it's the magical area that's faulty."

"But if it were the magical section that's faulty," Tecna asked, "why didn't Headmaster Saladin fix it himself?"

"He may be a great wizard, but he's nowhere near the level required of Technomagic to even begin a repair in a device as advanced as this."

"You flatter me, darling, to say I'm better than Headmaster Saladin."

Timmy flushed red, which caused Tecna to chuckle slightly. "Well, let's go, wouldn't want to keep him waiting," Timmy said hurriedly.

* * *

Red Fountain was easily the most 'advanced' of the three schools in Magix, owing partially to the much-needed renovation last year. Of all three schools (including her own), Red Fountain held a special place in Tecna's heart, being the only school to really maximise the use of Technomagic with its state-of-the-art aircrafts and military weaponry.

Saladin had stood at the entrance of the control room, seemingly expecting the young couple. While not all too obvious, the tension in Saladin had deflated partially as soon as they came into sight.

Now that she sat in front of the screen, she could see the extent of the marvel that came from her home realm. It was _magnificent_.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Timmy chuckled from her right, taking note of the wonderstruck look on Tecna's face that she often had when she was fully engrossed in a new concept.

She completely resembled a kid presented with a birthday present. "I've always tried to infuse a sensor with a small reading spell or two, but I've never been able to produce it in such a grand scale! The processors," she rambled, her eyes not once leaving the scrolling page of code on the screen, "I'd love to be able to get my hands on one of these! No device I've come across has been able to withstand this much magical influence and detect it to the nano measurements without shutting down, and–"

"And you're supposed to help us fix it."

"Oh. Right," she smiled sheepishly, and a more serious look soon followed. "As I said, no other device I've seen has been able to provide readings to this scale, and the fact that it's malfunctioning leads me to believe that it may have been overdosed with dark, or any negative energy source. Light, as it is in the name, is unable to withstand as much of a dark influence than vice-versa."

" _Theorem of Molecular Magic Distribution_?"

"Exactly!" Tecna beamed. "Now, this usually calls for a simple system reset, but with a machine this big it's a little more complicated than simply overriding the system. The magical residue would need to be cleared away first, so that the machine doesn't accidentally change its magical leaning."

Tecna stood up, "I'll do that magically, since actually rewriting the code would take weeks at this magnitude."

Timmy nodded his approval.

"Enchantix!"

It's always felt a little odd transforming solo, since she doesn't really need to transform outside of battles with the other girls and class. But she manages, and walks over to place her hand on top of the counsel.

The room hummed, alive with wires and technomagic as Tecna begins to glow a light green. A slight smile spread across her face; this part had always been one of her favourites. She felt... connected, connected to all the data available within the device and having the access at her fingertips, it was intoxicating. Here, it used to be the only world she understood, the only non-verbal commands she was able to read with a high accuracy rate. Now returning to it felt like coming home, a warm fuzzy feeling that enveloped her gently.

The lazy warmth turned into a full raged inferno, and _burned_.

A high-pitched sound filled the room, and it took Tecna several moments to realise that it came from her own lips. Pain bloomed within her magic, spreading from where her hand came into contact with the interface. All her instincts told her to let go, but her hand remained glued. The firewalls came crashing down, and it felt as if her magic was being siphoned out of her. Hot tears stung her eyes as her knees buckled underneath her own weight.

Someone was screaming. Not her. Who were they? What were they saying? She could hear nothing but static, all other signals were harshly rejected.

Something yanked her hand from the interface, and the lightning inside her soothed. She gulped for air, her wings blinking in and out of being as she drank the crisp air. Eventually she lost the battle of maintaining her transformation, and crashed fully onto the floor.

Something gripped her shoulders firmly, and Tecna turned around, half-dazed, to the frantic face of Timmy. "What happened?"

It took her a few minutes to find her voice, and even than it was hoarse. "I-I don't know," she admitted. "Check the readings, please."

Timmy let go of her shoulders and walked over to the print out of the event. "I don't understand, it says here it was overloaded by a mixed energy force," he paused, and looked over his girlfriend worriedly, "which you are not as far as I recall."

"Defin-definitely pure fairy here," she coughed harshly, and got to her feet with Timmy's help. "We need to report this to Headmaster–"

"Headmaster Saladin," Timmy finished the sentence off as another harsh hack filled the room.

Both fairy and specialist left the room, albeit at a slow pace. What they failed to notice was the postscript underneath the initial report, left behind on the floor.

 _Individual possesses unknown negative energy. Power Source: Unverifiable._

* * *

She got back to Alfea in the nick of time, just before the barriers went up for the night. After a quick goodnight kiss and reassurances that yes, she was indeed well enough to make it back to her dorms without help, Timmy left for Red Fountain.

The other girls, upon hearing of Tecna's misadventures at Red Fountain elected to stay up later to hear the tale. She'd love to say that she was able to do a decent job of recounting the events that had happened at the Specialist's school but truth be told, she was tired to the bone, and a puzzling headache was drumming away in her head perpetually.

"I'm really sorry girls, but I'm just about ready to pass out now. Can we talk tomorrow?"

The others gave various murmurs of approvals, and they all turned in for the night. Musa and Tecna retired to their shared dorm, and went to their respective sides of the room.

A crash echoed in the room, and Tecna, startled, whirled around to come face-to-face with a pack of USB devices on the floor. She's been jumpier than usually, she noted, unsure of what to make of it.

She proceeded to do what magical beings do best: use magic to perform the simplest of tasks. Absurd, but just a simple quirk of such folk.

Which became even more absurd as Tecna failed to pick up her stash of USBs.

Musa noticed, a frown creasing her features as she watched her roommate try and fail to establish a connection with the circuits within the USB. "Maybe you should go check with the nurse about that."

Tecna sighed, defeated as she walked over to pick the USBs up. "You're right," she conceded.

Her concerns out to rest, Musa crawled into bed and turned over. Within a few minutes her breathing turned steady, with Tecna's following suit.

 _Cold. Burning flames of glaciers and frozen winds. White howled relentlessly, and all she could do was fly. She had no energy left, barely left in reserve to move, not enough for even a simple shield spell. All she could do was flee. To save her life. To survive, not even to live._

 _Her wings gave out with a cry, and she crashed to the ground in a tangled heap. They crept on her, circling her like vultures before striking._

 _She tasted blood, before nothing._

* * *

A/N: Ok, so that's done! See you sometime this week, unless I decide to add another extra scene hahaha! Please hit follow/favourite/review on your way out, that would make my day!


	3. as she stood, steadfast

A/N: I hate myself for the cliffhanger, so you guys are getting an early chapter! Also, I made a shiny new cover which took two days to upload properly, how fun. Um, so some things I forgot to address the last chapter: I had to give the girls some last names to make up for the lack of so in canon, so those will the names I use throughout. I had to do a bit of world building here and there too, also seen in this chapter as I (attempt to) make sense of how magic works in the Winx universe, hahaha. Same warning from the last chapter applies, with some violence mentioned. As always, thank you for reading so far and enjoy!

For TecnoFan34: thank you for the feedback! We'll have more on Timmy when he comes back in, um, chapter 3? Yeah, 3. The Musa comment made me laugh, don't worry though, I won't be splitting them up. The canon derailment is going to be pretty obvious after this chapter though, canon-wise we're around episode 18 for reference!

Same warning from the last chapter applies, with some violence mentioned. As always, thank you for reading so far and enjoy!

* * *

 _She tasted blood, before nothing._

Then the chill crept into her veins again, blood replaced by shards of ice. She was shackled to the place, taut chains bruising her. She felt empty. Drained. _Exhausted_. Her soul longed for escape, burned for warmth, burned with her will to be free and fly.

It was so cold.

The fire and ice clashed, sparks igniting within her magic.

All it takes is a spark to light a fuse. And light it did, illuminating the world around her with a violent green.

She wanted to _live_.

The chains turned to ashes, and parts that didn't coursed with live electricity. She could tell she was running out of magic, with nothing to replenish it with she was most definitely done for without a miracle.

But she is – was – a Winx. And they don't go done without a fight.

The first convict went down without a fight, taken by surprise at the sudden freedom of their prisoner. The rest were not, brandishing rifles at her.

She stood tall, gritted her teeth with defiance.

And then they fired.

The hail of projectiles was surprisingly high-pitched. The frozen floor turned soft... warm. Maybe that's how it felt to die.

But then Tecna realised her chest was still heaving, still gulping down air. Her heart still beat, a frantic pace that wasn't normal, but _beat_. Her hands, still intact with sparks of magic escaping.

It was a nightmare.

Musa was almost right in front of her, a picture of worry on her tired face. Tecna caught a glimpse of her clock. 03:13.

She brought her hands to her face, slightly chipped nails grazing her forehead. "I'm sorry, Muse," her voice was muffled, but Musa could tell that Tecna was on the verge of crying.

"Do you wanna talk about it? It sounded... intense."

Tecna shook her head. "It's-it's nothing. Just a..." _a memory._

Musa reached over to grasp her shoulder in a gesture of support. "You're not alone in this, you know. We care, and–" she recoiled with a yelp, clutching her right hand.

"Are you okay?!"

"Yeah, it was like something shocked me though," Musa frowned, looking at her hand.

"That's odd; that's never happened with my powers before. I've always had good control," Tecna murmured softly, looking at her own hand that had now ceased sparking.

"You should probably go to the nurse in the morning."

"Yes, that seems like the best thing to do. Good night."

"Good night, Tecna. Sweet dreams."

* * *

Tecna didn't get a chance to visit until two days later. The next day was occupied by the compulsory Enchantix testing, and the whole Agador Box situation occupied most of the next morning and afternoon.

Her Enchantix form dissolved in the wind as soon as she let it, a little less gracefully than she would have liked. Her raw magic was acting unpredictably at certain points nowadays, which is why she preferred to channel her magic through devices in an attempt to gain control.

They'd just gotten back from Magix and were now waiting for Ms. Faragonda to call them in. There was no doubt that she would be disappointed in the six of them, which wasn't exactly fair since it wasn't even their fault! Tecna fumed thinking of _Ophir_ , the stuck-up wizard who had jeopardised their entire mission. First, he had to gall to _stalk_ them on what was at first a fairly uneventful trip to Magix, then he had to play wannabe 'hero' and jump in front of Layla.

Tecna couldn't even tell whether his actions were actually genuine. The very fact that she had found him attempting to hide inconspicuously behind a potted plant, listening to their conversation was enough to set off warning bells, and he then just _had_ to show up just as Valtor did. Not to mention the odd liking he had taken to Layla as if he was trying to infiltrate their little group. He could be one of Valtor's spies; it all added up.

Speaking of Layla, Tecna could tell that she herself was nowhere near pleased with the way the day went. Her jaw was clenched, and she hadn't stopped pacing ever since they were told to wait. Every time Layla lifted her head Tecna could catch glints of fury in her eyes, of the overwhelming feeling of feeling powerless as she was unable to do anything.

 _Layla held the stance of pure anguish. Her body language clearly communicated that she felt utterly guilty for being powerless, unable to do anything to help her beloved planet. The portal raged in front of her, casting the surrounding in a brilliant blue. Tecna cast her a brief glance, an attempt at reassurance, balled her fists and stood._

"Come in, girls," Ms. Faragonda called from inside her office, snapping Tecna out of her memory, her heart palpitating rapidly.

She would have liked to blame it on nerves, on not wanting to disappoint the mentor she had looked up to for almost three years, but in her hearts of hearts, she knew that it was not the case.

* * *

"Correct me if I misunderstood, girls, but from my understanding, Valtor is now in possession of the Agrador Box, is that right?" Ms. Faragonda's face was blank, but a tinge of disappointment had crept in her voice.

"Yes, Headmistress," Bloom took it upon herself to answer, taking accountability.

"That is... a rather unfortunate outcome, I must say. Valtor now has a near unlimited storage unit for all the spells that he wishes."

Tecna interjected, "If I may, Headmistress, that's not all that happened at the museum."

"Care to explain?"

"Not long before Valtor's announcement, we discovered a young man claiming to be an individual named 'Ophir'. At first, he appeared to be simply a stranger with no sense of personal boundaries," Layla muttered something under her breath at this point, "but we have reason to believe he might have been one of Valtor's spies. This 'Ophir' appeared at strategic points of our mission, and ultimately lead to the failure of it when he attempted to take a hit for Layla."

"Tecna," Flora began, "it might have been a coincidence all along, we don't know–"

"Don't know for sure whether he's a spy?" Tecna particularly spat the words out. "Wouldn't you rather err on the side of caution? Face it, Flora, Valtor is a cunning wizard, it wouldn't be below him to pull something like this off."

"And I for one feel like we should give him a chance! So far, he hasn't done anything wrong, has he?" Stella came to the defence of Flora. "What if–"

"What if we trust him and he stabs us in the back as soon as we drop our guard? Then what?" Tecna seethed. Can't they _think_ with their brains for once?

"You'd rather deliver an innocent to his death for false security?"

"No, I just–"

"Girls!"

All heads turned to Ms. Faragonda. "What has gotten into you girls? You can settle your differences later, we need to deal with the situation we have at hand first. I'd have suggested a brainstorming session, but it's clear now that most of you are in no mental state to do so. You are dismissed."

The cold tone in the normal chipper Headmistress' voice left no room for argument. The door closed behind the group of six as they left.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Flora, I shouldn't have blown up at you like that, especially in front of Ms. Faragonda."

The gentle nature fairy was simply too forgiving, Great Dragon bless her, as she accepted the apology wholeheartedly. If Tecna had been in her shoes she would have ruminated over the incident for at least a week.

Stella said nothing.

Dinner that day was soon turning out to be a gloomy affair, as the group sat in near total silence, the events of that day weighing heavily on each of their minds. It was as if the entire Magical Dimension was out to get them; their entire senior year did consist of tragedy after tragedy with almost no respite. Tecna desperately needed a break, they all did, yet no-one had the decency to provide them with one.

A whole host of emotions swirled within her as she picked at her spinach. First and foremost, she was _furious_ , furious at Ophir for jeopardising their mission and the world as a result, furious at Valtor for leaving a trail of destruction wherever he goes without a thought. All Tecna could think of doing is punching his stupid smirking face dead centre to make him feel a fraction of the pain each community he's destroyed has felt.

But a small part of her was terrified. Valtor has proven that he wouldn't stop at any measure to conquer the world. He'd almost– he's just... despicable barely begins to cover him. Entire armies had fallen, entire realms. They were most likely the last line of defence between him and world domination – which, honestly, seems like a joke since they hadn't even graduated school – from which no-one knows could result in. Statistically, the Magical Dimension didn't stand a chance.

What would happen if – Great Dragon forbid – they failed?

Valtor would probably keep them prisoners, use them as bargaining chips to bring entire realms to their knees. He might brainwash them, turn them into mindless slaves. If he was feeling merciful he'd outright kill them where they stand.

What would happen then?

What would happen to their families? Kingdoms? The Specialists, given that they escaped?

Execution. Sentenced to... to untold horrors.

Tecna wouldn't be able to stand from the guilt.

She looked up from her plate and met Layla's eyes, who had been sitting directly adjacent from her. Nowadays she carried a perpetually haunted look in her eyes as if the ghosts of her failures were following her around. Thankfully her kingdom was still standing, but political and magitarian* tensions were weighing heavily on the Crown Princess. Just another victim in Valtor's long list.

Stella, too, was less carefree than she had been compared to last year or hell, even the beginning of this year when she started handing out the invitations for her Princess Ball. Solaria had quickly fallen under Valtor's reign, with the monarchy brought to a screeching halt after the downfall of King Radius. While it had not been on as a wide scale attempt as Andros, Solaria's downfall was more cunning and calculated, akin to an undetected poison shutting down the body from the heart.

They've paid heavily already, and they were nowhere near close to the end of this debacle. How much longer can they keep this up? Luck was what they have been relying on for the past few years. It was not a limitless supply. What then?

All this thinking was making her head hurt, a dull throbbing that outright disagreed with her state of mind. She set her fork down with a clatter.

"I'm not feeling too good, I'm going back to the dorms for a lie in."

The others murmured their well-wishes, not in the mood to comment further. Unlike the rest, Musa's eyes bored into her with an intense expression that she could feel even after she had long left the table.

Perhaps it would be a good idea to visit the nurse.

* * *

"Ah, Tecna, what brings you here today?"

Nurse Ophelia was a wizened lady, as most of the staff were, and she shared Ms. Faragonda's concern for her students. As Tecna walked in the nurse turned around to observe her, most likely already running checks in her head.

"It's probably nothing, but I've been getting a persistent headache ever since..." Tecna trailed off, words fading as she realised that she _did not remember_ how long ago it was.

Nurse Ophelia seemed to pick up on her worry. "Since when, dear?"

"I... I'm not sure."

Frowning, Nurse Ophelia rummaged through her healing remedies, keeping an eye on her patient. "Normally, this wouldn't be too much of a concern, since this could have been the result of fatigue and stress. But your powers have been affected, am I right?"

"Yes."

"Are you having difficulties in casting spells that you normally wouldn't have any trouble on, or has your power turned on you and/or your allies?"

She still remembered the burn within her veins as the electricity from the device attacked her. "Both."

Tecna watched as the older woman stopped her search. With a sinking feeling, Tecna realised that this was turning out to be much more serious than a normal stress reaction. She took a seat in the waiting area.

"I'm going to need to run some tests again," the nurse mumbled, half to herself.

"Again?"

"The same ones I had you take about a month ago, dear. Checking your magical stamina, balance and affinity for light and dark. Yours is a special case, as no-one's been subject to such an amount of opposite energy in long exposures, and I suspect it was nothing short of a miracle you managed to survive the Omega–"

"Please," Tecna croaked, "don't mention that... hellhole."

"I'm sorry, dear." Nurse Ophelia felt bad, she really did, since she's dealt with a good number of traumatised patients over the years. But the condition she's thinking of requires them to be thinking of the place. She murmured a quick prayer that it was not the case.

"Tecna, would you please cast any simple spell into this?" 'This' in fact referred to a device that once again hailed from Tecna's home realm, or more specifically the medical sector of it. Tecna's used it before, twice in fact, once during her childhood to test her magical affinity and well-being and the other time as mentioned, about a month ago.

She sent a small spell towards it, a glowing orb of technomagic that served no other purpose than to produce light. It was absorbed within the machine without much trouble, similar to what had happened last month.

What differentiated today from the previous occurrence is that Nurse Ophelia had definitely not frowned as she read the results the other time.

"Nurse... what's wrong?" Tecna asked, a little shakingly.

"I can't confirm anything yet, I'm afraid." She was being evasive, that much was clear. "Can you please run a contact spell now?"

Tecna hesitated. The last time she did one, she was shocked by her own element, to say that she was apprehensive would be an understatement. But she needed to get it over and down with.

She gingerly lent a finger to the interface, the unfeeling surface not providing any comfort for her nerves. Biting back a snort, she realised how ridiculous she sounded. She, a Winx, afraid of simple medical tests? What a joke. Her finger sparked with electricity, and the device glowed green momentarily before fading.

Observing the nurse's face, Tecna could tell that she was making a conscious effort to remain impartial. "Thank you. I just need to ask a diagnosis question, and we're done."

What a relief. "I'm fine with that."

"I apologise if you'd rather not think about this, but how did gaining your Enchantix feel magically?"

Her Enchantix. Great Dragon. What was supposed to be one of the most joyful moments in her life was constantly marred by the experience. Death had stared her right in the face, that much she remembered, pure terror swamping her and clashing with her need to do something for the greater good. She couldn't have just stood there and watched an entire kingdom crumble.

But the specifics... she was at a loss. She could barely remember the event, as if something was blocking her from remembering.

"Do you remember?" the nurse prompted gently, as the distress was evident on the young fairy's face.

Defeated, Tecna shook her head. This was the second time she had forgotten something, and that irked her to no end.

"Stand still, I'll need to cast a diagnosis spell."

Nurse Ophelia held out both of her hands in front of Tecna's face, and both fairies glowed blue. It was a rather odd feeling, having recessive memories dug up forcefully, but mercifully Tecna was spared the experience of living through her memories again.

Nurse Ophelia, on the other hand, was able to experience the sacrifice first-hand. She was rather awed as she saw the infamous Omega portal up close, not to mention felt the suffocating negative energy being emitted from said source. How in the name of the Great Dragon did a _standard fairy_ manage to survive?

It was only until she – Tecna – gained her Enchantix that her fears were confirmed. She could feel the drain of her magic hit a breaking point, something the real Tecna must not have noticed due to her adrenaline, halfway through closing the portal. But Tecna had kept channelling her magic to the portal, syphoning her life force as a backup force. She could feel her _dying_ , her energy being sucked dry.

Then she fell, everything went black, and she was ejected from the memory.

Tecna gasped, her body lurching as their consciousness separated. Her emotions were all clamouring for her attention, and she _couldn't stop shaking_.

The nurse slowly let her hands fall. The look in her eyes told it all.

"I'm running out of time, aren't I?"

The nurse could cry. She was, for all intents and purposes, still a minor, and yet here she was already accepting the worst possible outcome. But she had to remain professional, she couldn't let her feelings get in the way.

"Not necessarily, although it is possible your condition is... terminal. Your life force hasn't been able to regenerate in time after your sacrifice since you were left in hostile conditions full of negative energy and little technological influences. Tell me, you used magic making the transmitter, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Your light energy ran out then, from my hypothesis. You went too long without being near a source of positive energy, and your body had to resort the next best solution."

No.

"Your life force needed to regenerate at the same time, but is only able to do so with light. Currently, they are in a catch-22 situation, and your magic and physical well-being are suffering as a result."

Tecna couldn't breathe, couldn't draw a single breath as the room seemed to have been sucked out of all its air.

"I can't say for sure whether you will survive, that's only a matter of time."

 _Survive._

"Am I... am I the only one who's had this before?"

Nurse Ophelia remembered _her_. The young fairy with a long life ahead of her. The young fairy who had thrown it all away for a war. "No."

They fell silent.

Tecna couldn't stop shaking. But she found her two feet, ploughed on because that was all she can do.

"Thank you."

She walked out, the door left ajar.

* * *

*Equivalent of humanitarians. Since they technically aren't humans, no?

A/N: A bit of an info dump at the end there, hopefully it wasn't too boring! So the central theme has been introduced and please note that the mood's going to drop drastically from now on. Don't say I didn't warn you. However, I also don't mind pitchforks being sent to me through the reviews. Seriously, I hate myself for writing this too and I have no idea where it came from (well, actually it came from the departure of a certain bass from a certain acapella group but that's a whole other story for the last chapter). Thanks for reading this!


	4. unwavering

A/N: I'm screeching incoherently right now, if anyone's interested hahaha. When was the last time I updated this? So sorry guys oops. Internet has not been kind to me, and I haven't been able to get a stable enough connection on my laptop to access this site. Same warnings apply, and thank you guys so much for the love/attention you've been giving this! Same warnings apply, and probably OOC-ness ahead. Another somewhat random anecdote: do the Specialist actually have defined personalities other than being the girl's SOs? I just realised after writing this and the next chapter (which might come soon since I'm pretty proud with how a particular scene turned out) that Timmy, and the other Specialists really, have somewhat blank slates when it comes to their personal lives outside the Winx. Idk. Ok, enough rambling, here we go!

* * *

"Hey, what's wrong? I know that Stella can come off a little harsh sometimes, but I'm sure she doesn't mean it."

"I know, I'm over it, I swear."

"But something's still bothering you."

Tecna pursed her lips. What else was she supposed to do, casually blurt out that she might die in the next few months? It wouldn't be fair for Musa, or any of the other girls for that matter, to have another added worry on top of Valtor's threat. She couldn't blatantly lie either. This was _Musa_. Even if she miraculously didn't catch her, it would leave a bad taste in her mouth.

"Tecna," Musa said, her voice cracking slightly, "don't you trust me?"

She does. Of _course_ she trusts her oldest friend, the one who's been quietly at her side for the past two, almost three years, the one who had supported her unconditionally and was the first to see the fact that she was more than a machine and was just like the rest of them. But she couldn't find the words to say so.

She just couldn't do this to her.

The silence thickened, the music silent in a rare moment. Tecna couldn't even bear to look at Musa, turning around so that the far wall of their shared room loomed over her. Her jaw clenched from a desperate effort to keep herself intact, to keep up the façade that everything was alright and that nothing had changed. To keep up the pretence that she wasn't breaking inside, that she wasn't fighting an internal war that was leaving deep wounds.

It's better to rip herself to shreds than to do the same to Musa.

A hand gently laid itself on Tecna's right shoulder. "Whatever it is, I have your back. Promise. I'll be here until you're ready."

Yes, she'll be here, but what if Tecna wasn't?

She found her voice again, her mouth dry as if she hadn't spoken in a week. "You're… you're too kind."

"More like that's just what friends are for. Seriously though, I'm not gonna judge you, or anything really. Dunno how they do it on Zenith, but that's how we do it on Melody. No judgement."

Tecna stared at her clasped hands. She didn't want to hurt Musa, didn't want to make her relive the memories of losing her mother with another important person in her life. She _couldn't_.

"Please Tecna, I can't bear seeing you this upset."

"That goes both ways," Tecna spat bitterly. If Musa was already 'unbearably upset' seeing her refuse to tell her what was wrong for Musa's own good, she's going to be irrecoverably shattered, so to speak, if she were to hear the actual problem behind it.

"Honestly Tecna," the hint of a smile crept into her voice, "we've been through a hell lot of… awful stuff the past years. I think I can take it."

Tecna snapped.

She whirled around, shocking Musa, the tension releasing ten-fold in a fury-fuelled statement. "Fine! _Fine_! I'll tell you since you're so _certain_ that it'll make you feel better to know! I hope you feel better knowing that my own magic is turning against me right this second and killing me because I sure _don't_!"

The silence was suffocating. It felt worse than Musa's pleas to know what was going on.

Tecna was _not going to cry_.

Musa froze, standing in front of Tecna, her face unreadable. Then the shock faded, and sorrow flooded her features that did nothing to improve the mood. Tecna could practically see a younger Musa in front of her, holding her mother's hand in her dying moments. She could _feel_ the grief radiating from her, fear and a tinge of fury at the world mingling in her horror-stricken stance.

A horrible, selfish part of Tecna was relieved that she wasn't going to suffer alone. In that moment, she had never felt so _disgusted_ with herself. Bringing her closest friend down for company? Despicable.

In spite of all this, in spite of what Tecna had _done_ to Musa, she felt a pair of arms enveloping her in a tight embrace, clinging onto her like a desperate man would to fading hope.

 _I'm sorry, I'm so sorry._

A thousand apologies would barely touch the wound that Tecna knew she had reopened.

"Tec…"

Tecna didn't say anything, _couldn't_ say anything since she knew that nothing she could say would help. If anything, it would probably make her feel worse, given her aptitude for social situations.

"I won't tell the others or Timmy unless you're ready, I promise."

Tecna knew then who was truly the bravest.

* * *

Musa had truly been a blessing.

Tecna wasn't quite sure that the other girls hadn't noticed how close they had been getting recently, but then again they had always been quite close since they did share a room. But Tecna herself was guiltily appreciative of the fact that Musa had taken to looking out for her whenever she noticed her spells starting to go haywire. She didn't want to think about what would have happened on Solaria with that guard had Musa not moved in when her shield gave out a few seconds too early.

The whole liberation of Solaria had happened about a week ago, yet Tecna still felt a little weary, something which was not going to do her any good in this mission to Light Rock. However, there was also no chance that she was going to miss out on it, Valtor being more important than a (reluctantly much-needed) day's worth of rest. Any lead on his possible whereabouts would have to come first.

She'd almost laughed out loud when Digit had wanted to come along. "You can't come with me," she had said, a sympathetic smile tugging her lips, "you're too tiny and this mission is too dangerous."

Digit had pouted, and Tecna felt a pang of guilt. Who was she anyway, to dictate what someone should or shouldn't do? It wasn't like she'd listen to orders herself when she found them ridiculous.

Tecna's hypocritical, she knows, but the people around her collectively mattered more than her, for how much does a single life weigh against trillions of others?

It was only logical.

She now was standing at the front gates of Alfea, backpack in hand with her stash of gadgets, waving goodbye to the pixies. Digit was still sulking, Tecna could tell, but there wasn't much she could do now. Hopefully, Digit would be able to ruminate a little in the few hours that she would be left alone for.

Their little group set out for Light Rock, a place that had gained its reputation for being the calmest institution in the entire realm of Magix. The scene that met them, however, was nothing short of chaotic, the long-acclaimed serenity long gone in the wake of the disorder. The mark of Valtor loomed over them, leaving no doubt to who exactly was responsible. Evidently, the Trix had also been there, judging from the melted puddles of what could have been ice–

 _Ice. Frozen fractals stretched as far as her eye could see, an endless sea of blue that rivalled the fabled infinite ocean itself. The light beamed into her eyes, not quite daybreak but not quite night, dazzling her with a cry. It felt as if she should have been burning, but the only burn she could feel was the burn of the negative temperatures._

"Tec."

Tecna blinked.

"Are you okay? You seemed kind of spaced out there for a sec," Musa asked worriedly, with what an outsider would simply assume to be a superficial concern.

"I'm fine," Tecna whispered back, noting that Flora had taken notice of the duo, "seriously."

Thankfully Musa let it go for now, not that she had a choice since Ms. Faragonda took that moment to give the mission debrief.

"–and lastly Stella, you'll be paired up with Tecna. We'll cover the ground faster this way, as time is of the essence to track down Valtor and his three witches. Report back here if you find something substantial that may clue us into his whereabouts now."

Stella looked none too pleased with the arrangement, and for the first time in a few days, Tecna agreed. For reasons she can't fathom, while they had made up for the initial blow up before the Solarian Liberation they tended to clash over the smallest of things, which honestly caught her by surprise. Even though Tecna and Stella didn't have the strongest of bonds, they've never been at each other's necks like this before. They'd just have to suck up their differences for this mission.

Easier said than done, really, as Stella had already picked up the pace as if she had intended to leave Tecna behind.

"Stella, wait! Don't just go charging off like that, what if you run straight into a trap?"

"I'm not as _dim-witted_ as you might think I am, you know!" Stella scoffed, pausing momentarily to observe a piece of wreckage. "Or maybe you really don't see me as anything more than a stuck-up princess!"

"That's not true! It's just that, well, you need to think more logically sometimes and not just go rushing blindly–"

"All your planning and organisation won't get you far in life, you know! You're too uptight for your own good, Great Dragon forbid that something randomly comes up and changes all your plans!"

Tecna paused, Stella's words echoing alongside Nurse Ophelia's. _I can't say for sure whether you will survive_. Tecna's tried so _hard_ to push that to the back of her head, not wanting uncertainties to ruin her life. Try as she might, the looming thought of something completely out of her control sneaks up on her every once in a while, bringing forth anxious thoughts over her future.

Something changed in Stella's expression, and the agitated look softened to an apologetic one. "Look, I'm sorry that I've been so harsh lately. I just don't want you to regret anything since that feeling totally sucks," she chuckled softly, a saddened expression contrasting with sound. "But then again, it isn't really fair to try and change who you are, since there really isn't a friend like you. I know you try your best."

Tecna smiled weakly, "It's okay. Shall we carry on with the mission?"

There wasn't really a friend like Stella, either.

* * *

The mission, it turned out, was futile, really. The _pixies_ had more action than they did (although Tecna wasn't really complaining given that the odds of her hurting herself with her own magic were quite high these days).

Digit had so 'selflessly' rejected her offer of letting her stay in Tecna's computer for a longer time, something she had found a little surprising. Turns out that she had tired of virtual monsters after going face-to-face with the Trix and Valtor, something that had made Tecna's heart swell with pride.

Digit didn't deserve to possibly lose her bonded fairy.

Tecna's said that there wasn't really any reason for her so-called 'sudden generosity', verbatim, but in reality, she decided to treat her bonded pixie a little kinder after realising how she felt about being left behind. Sure, it's only a few hours, but the pixie didn't exactly take well to her, well, _absence_ before. Separation doesn't bode well on pixies.

Said pixie was now fast asleep in her bed, which was understandable given the events of the day. Dinner had been served an hour ago, the evening not quite new. Tecna sat cross-legged on her bed, her computer balancing precariously on her lap while a soothing melody played on a flute, courtesy of Musa.

Messages poured in as soon as she turned on the instant messaging programme she had installed, a trend she had noticed from a few weeks ago. She opened the first one, a smile spreading on her features as she realised who sent it.

 _Timmy: How was the mission cupcake?_

 _You: Didn't find anything, although surprisingly the pixies did. They took on the Trix and Valtor without help!_

 _So, cupcake, huh? 3_

 _Timmy: I don't see why not :) you're adorable enough to pass for one_

 _You: Oh stop, you're going to make me blush._

 _Timmy: That is, when you're not being extra uptight_

 _You: Never mind._

 _Timmy: I'm just kidding lol_

 _Anyways, I'm glad to see that you're alright._

Tecna glanced at the flashing indicator on top of the screen. Timmy was still typing. And then he was not, as if he was reconsidering his words. His previous message weighed heavily on Tecna, for she knew that he had chosen to omit part of what he wanted to say.

A long stream of messages from Timmy was still visible at the top of the screen, for they hadn't found much of a need to message in the previous months (calling had become their main method of communication due to the comfort of knowing how the other person was truly feeling). Tecna couldn't even bear looking at those particular messages, as the desperate tone of them broke her heart ten times over. She'd never wanted him to break, never wanted to make him feel the pain he did.

And she'd have to make him go through it again.

She'd seen how ragged and worn down he was after the rescue, how his body seemed to exude weariness and fatigue. He'd even skipped out piloting in favour of a quick rest, leaving Sky and Brandon at the controls. She'd caught whispers of conversations from the other Specialists, about him staying up for Arcadia-knows how many days straight in what seemed like a foolish attempt for a glimmer of hope, to the point where he'd call 'sleep' him passing out in front of his computer.

He'd done it all for her, sacrificed his sleep and health in the faintest hopes that he could get his love back. All for _her_.

And it could all be in vain.

 _New Message from Timmy: You are, right? Everything fine on your end?_

A frown tugged on her lips. Did he not think that she can take care of herself? He wasn't wrong to worry, though. Much as she hated it.

 _You: Don't. I'm fine._

What a transparent lie, really.

He'd paused, evident from the sudden inactivity. Tecna snorted. What kind of fool would buy that, anyways? It's extremely unlikely for one to not have some sort of ramifications after the whole ordeal. Not to mention the little scene at Red Fountain.

 _Timmy: Headmaster Saladin wanted to apologise. He said that he shouldn't have asked you to do something that big of a scale so soon after._

 _You: Does the machine work at the very least?_

 _Timmy: We're not quite sure, although the readings do seem more normal._

 _Typing…_

 _Online._

 _Well, take care, okay?_

 _Be well._

Tecna stopped typing her reply, reconsidered it again.

 _You: You too._

The 'I love you' was left unsent.

* * *

She went to bed early, seeing no point in continuing any – or starting – any new conversations.

She stopped to reconsider, already huddled in the sheets, whether she actually wanted to go to bed. Sure, she didn't have much else to do, but was the lack of boredom a fair enough trade for the world that plagued her with seemingly endless nightmares?

Tecna could barely remember the last night she got a good night's sleep. Every single night without fail she woke up in the middle of the night, her breath laboured and her heart beating frantically against her ribcage. Shot, strangled, stabbed, just plain succumbed to hypothermia, you name it, her nightmares subjected her to it.

What made it all the more terrifying was how that wasn't far off from reality. She'd gotten herself out of the clutches of death more times than she could ever bother to count in the Omega, and all of them were mostly by the skin of her teeth. To relive them over and over again during the time that she was supposed to be the most relaxed...

It was just so... real.

Every little detail in whatever foe her subconscious threw at her was as clear as day, not murky or blurred by the abstracts of sleep. And every time, every single _damn_ time she'd wake up in the middle of the night with her heart in her mouth and it was just so...

Sometimes she wished she died there, spared the agony of suffering the consequences of that _wretched_ place that followed her around like her shadow. It doesn't even matter now, since she might be dying anyway.

She needed the sleep. The most logical thing would be to sleep. What was wrong with her?

She closed her eyes, in an attempt to save the last flickers of rationality within her.

She was Tecna. Tecna was not that easily swayed by emotions.

The cool, blissful black melted away to the blue of the Omega.

 _Her reflection wavered in front of her, shifting and changing within the surface of the ice. Hazel eyes stared back at her, and she bit back a cry of terror._

 _No. Great Dragon_ no _. Not Timmy._

 _His face was so hopeful, so_ relieved _. His mouth moved, forming words of joy that brought stabbing pains to her heart. She knew what was going to happen, knew that a damned convict was going to sneak up on her and kill her slowly, but she couldn't move an inch away from her boyfriend's relieved gaze._

 _She didn't even struggle when her arm was forcibly grabbed, leaving burns on her wrists from the force. She knew that a dagger was being raised that very second, a dagger that was going to end her short life. She couldn't care. She wouldn't care. Let it. She's done with the Omega._

 _Then a piercing scream cut across the cave, and she_ saw _, saw the crushed look on Timmy's face._

I'm sorry.

 _And the world faded away, but the agony that had resided in his eyes remained._

She couldn't breathe. She _couldn't breathe_.

Her lungs rattled for air, but she still couldn't _breathe_. Her chest was constricted, as if she was buried in an avalanche. In, out, in, out but no air remained, no oxygen was relieving the suffocation.

"Mu... mu–sa!" Her voice rasped, her lungs fighting a losing battle. Would Musa even hear her?

"Tecna!" Thank the Great Dragon. Thank whatever in Magix for her roommates sonic hearing. Musa didn't waste any time in gathering her in her arms and helping her stand.

"I'll get you to the nurse. You'll be okay."

In, out, in, out. Her head was starting to ache.

"Tecna, stay with me!"

In, out, in, out.

Did Musa say something?

The lights were pretty in this room. Who was that woman in white? An angel?

The last thing she saw was Musa's eyes.

They were pretty too.

* * *

A/N: Might double update, let's see. Also, this chapter was a bit of a pain, so sorry if the flow isn't as smooth as usual. Lots of editing which probably barely skimmed the surface of continuity/characterisation errors, so feel free to offer some critic! I also probably need to apologise for any inaccuracies in the depiction of trauma, reading medical reports can only do so much. Thank you for reading through!


	5. as the world crumbles

A/N: Double update, so do read the previous chapter if you haven't! Also, I thrive on angst. Sorry 'bout that. But this... I write angst for warm ups, and I felt somewhat bad to do this. Scratch that, pretty damn bad. Next chapters' worse, though. Have a box of tissues nearby as a precaution, please. Same warnings, probably a bunch of OOC because man am I struggling with characterisation, and enjoy! I hope...

* * *

Her breathing sounded funny. As if someone had thrown a funnel on her face and slowly let the air out. It certainly felt that way, given the cold object that was pressed onto her face.

Tecna felt a presence nearby. She couldn't recall anything from before. Where was she? What had happened? Why was the world so dark?

The last question echoed in this... void she was in. Everything was so... plain. Dull. She knew very well that that wasn't right, that something had gone wrong somewhere.

A female voice started speaking beside her. It sounded worried, but the male that piped in after completely outclassed the first voice. He was beyond frantic, and fear kept flooding into his voice.

"Is Tecna okay? What happened? Where are the other girls? I came here as fast as I could–"

Tecna would've recognised Timmy's voice anywhere. His normally mellow voice was tinged with fear.

"She's fine... I think." Musa. That was Musa. They were talking about her.

"You think?!" Timmy all but yelled. Someone exhaled loudly; Tecna'd reckoned it was Timmy. "Sorry, that was unnecessary. I'm just–"

"It's fine, I know how you feel. It was terrifying to find her like that, and now all the waiting..."

The air seemed fresher, as if it had been sterilised. Did she pass out?

"The other girls went to class. They don't know yet," Musa added after a beat of silence.

"Why?"

"It's not my place to tell, I'm sorry."

Tecna finally found the strength to move her eyelids. They opened painstakingly slowly, much too slow for her liking.

She almost shut her eyes again after the lights in... was it the infirmary? almost blinded her, bathing the entire room in dazzling white. The world slowly came into focus again, the brilliant light fading into cooler tones.

It was most definitely the infirmary, given that she's been there just a few days ago. Another giveaway was the fact that no other room besides a medical one would have the surplus of medical equipment this room had. The room was still cast in a dim light, signifying dawn was still young.

Two faces greeted her, and Tecna easily recognised them as Musa and Timmy.

"Tecna!" the duo exclaimed in unison, relief evident in their voices.

Musa helped Tecna to sit up in the infirmary bed, taking care not to touch the tubes held aloft by magic. It was then Tecna noticed the state of disarray she was in. She was still in her pyjamas, which were now rumpled (not something new ever since her first nightmare though), and her body felt as if she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, something which logically speaking shouldn't have happened since she had spent the last night sleeping, although rather fitfully.

"Hey guys…" Tecna said groggily, before realising something. It was pointless to attempt to speak before getting this… mask off of her face. Why didn't that occur to her earlier? She was normally more organised than this. Analyse first, act later. What happened to that?

Timmy seemed to realise her dilemma, as he started to reach for the mask before the door opened. Nurse Ophelia entered the room with the same device that she used the last times she had been here, seemingly studying the readings that were reflected on her glasses. Her attention deviated from the device to Tecna.

"Good, you're awake," the nurse mumbled under her breath, the supposed good news of her exclamation not syncing up with the tone of her voice, which weighed heavily with what seemed to be the burden of bad news. The nurse unhooked the mask and set it aside rather distractedly.

Tecna slightly jumped as someone crushed her in an embrace, but relaxed slowly after she realised it was Timmy. Timmy?

"I'm not saying that I don't want you to be here, but what are you doing here? Don't you have classes to attend?"

Timmy had the gall to look slightly abashed, his cheeks tinted a light rose. "I… well, Musa called me mentioning that you were admitted to the infirmary, so I thought that it would be good to check up on you."

"He says it so casually," Musa laughed, sitting cross-legged on the chair she dragged over, "but I'll let you know, Tec, he nearly woke up the entire school crashing in like he did!"

Musa was definitely glossing over the fact that Tecna had needed an oxygen mask to breathe. A painfully transparent attempt really, but she'll let it slide given that Timmy was here, and there was no way in oblivion she would let him on the fact that this may not be an unfortunate one-time incident.

"Speaking of which, young man, I have half the mind to report you to the headmistress for sneaking into the school without permission, and skipping your own classes at the same time too!" Nurse Ophelia looked up from the device, glowering at Timmy.

Said Specialist visibly blanched, and although he looked as if he wanted to stay longer made his way to the door.

He looked over his shoulder, his hand lightly gripping the door handle. "Get well soon, Tec."

Another glare from the nurse sent him scuttling for the hallways, which made Tecna smile despite herself.

It wasn't until the door firmly clicked shut that the nurse turned to the remaining fairies in the room. Musa shifted her stance, the carefree posture completely evaporated. Every last bit of the smile melted off Tecna's face.

No-one delivered good news with a face that grave.

"Musa, I'm afraid I need to ask you to–"

Tecna cut the nurse off. "She can stay. Please."

The nurse nodded, a brisk movement void of emotion as if she was steeling herself for her next words.

Musa's hand found Tecna's, a small comfort that she allowed herself to relish in. The music fairy had gone rigid, as did Tecna. The nurse hadn't even said anything, but the little happiness that had lingered in the room seemed to have been sucked out.

"Very well. How are you feeling right now, Tecna?"

"I... I guess I'm doing alright," which wasn't really an understatement, Tecna rationalised, since she didn't really know what counted as 'fine' in her case. "I'd really like to know what's going on, though."

Nurse Ophelia paused. "How much do you know?"

That's a rather odd question, or at least to Tecna it was. "I've gotten all my information from you, so whatever you know is most likely what I know. All the magical imbalance explanation, and... the possibility of a terminal diagnosis."

"Tec's also been having really bad dreams, they've been really tolling on her too," Musa butted in. Tecna glared at her; wasn't she the one who promised to keep that piece of information?

"I see... I do have a stock of sleeping potions for dreamless sleep, that should help with the nightmares, normally speaking that is..."

"What do you mean 'normally speaking'?" Outside, the birds chirped as the sun rose, the brilliant light casting the sky in a warm glow.

"Magical imbalance is usually artificially introduced with an intent, but in your case, it's a natural occurrence. I have no way to predict whether it would be as effective than if, for say, Ms. Musa was to take it."

"Oh. Is there– is there anything else?"

Laughter filled the hallways the first classes were dismissed, pouring into the silence of the room.

"I sincerely regret having to tell you that it's unlikely that you will recover from this."

Silence.

Everything turned icy-cold. Numb. All movement stopped, except for the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She's never really noticed it before, never really paid attention to the mechanism that she had to thank for her entire existence. But now, she's extremely tuned into the rhythm of her breathing, consciously sucking in the air that keeps her heart beating and her… being.

And now she's been told it could all cease right this moment.

Tecna's thought of dying before. Not in the fashion where she _wanted_ to die, but rather in the way that she understood that everyone at some point would have to pass. She'd thought about it during the Great Battle of Alfea, where she'd first come face to face with the possibility of meeting her end. Again when she was frozen in Cloud Tower for about an hour and a half (more of before really, since she had passed out eventually due to the cold), and the final showdown between Darkar. She'd for sure thought that she would have met her end during battle, maybe even giving up her life for the greater good.

She had never imagined it, never even entertained the thought that she would lose her life to the magic that runs in her blood, to the very _life force_ that keeps her alive.

How ironic.

The world in front of her muddled into a hazy blur, colours turning monotone and bleak as she tried to come to grips with her fate. Everything muted, and the laughter died out. Even the presence of the two other beings melted away, leaving her alone to fall. Alone to lose the war.

A box of tissues entered her line of sight, seemingly offered to her. She didn't even have the strength to move her hands. But a shaky hand did grasp the piece offered, crumpling the snow-white square so that it wrinkled.

Musa. She was crying.

No, she was weeping, for no sound escaped her lips. Tecna turned her face and almost looked away. She'd broke, _broke_ and shattered into a thousand pieces as if the news were a wrecking ball swung at her face. First her mother, then her best friend… Great Dragon, what had Tecna _done_?

Not too long ago, although that seemed to be in a different timeline altogether, she'd been cracking jokes with Timmy–

 _Great Dragon._

Timmy, the one that stopped at nothing, the one who would move entire galaxies for her safety. The one she _loved_. The one who would be absolutely devastated at the news.

Tecna'd already broken one soul. And she was not going to break another.

Damn her own life, damn her short life for him. She was not going to break his heart.

Even if it meant breaking her own.

* * *

Somehow, she'd managed to join the rest of the Winx on their mission to get the Water Stars, part of which she had to thank her persuasion skills and the sheer fact that she's managed to keep the whole thing under wraps. It's not as tight-lipped as she would have liked, as one other person did know.

Musa seemed to be having a harder time coming to terms with the impending death then Tecna herself had, clinging on to her whenever possible and treating her as if she was made of porcelain. It's a wonder how the others hadn't asked about the uncharacteristic behaviour of Musa, but she reckoned it was fate's way of attempting to make amends with her.

Musa completely disagreed with Tecna's decision to follow them, but Tecna'd managed to argue that if her time really was limited, she wanted to help out the best she could. After all, it wasn't like she was completely helpless, no? Musa begrudgingly agreed, partially because Bloom had chosen that exact moment to remind the duo to pack up for said mission.

Truth be told, Tecna had snuck away on this mission, not having the extra clearance that the nurse had forced her to get, but what could they do now that she was about to land? Force the entire group to turn back and possibly jeopardise the mission that could tip the battle against Valtor in their favour?

"We've landed," Timmy announced, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She hadn't talked to Timmy ever since he was at Alfea. She was certain that he had noticed how she was brushing him off, practically running away when a few days ago they were practically inseparable. But she couldn't do it to him, couldn't love him when all she was going to do was rip out his heart in the near future.

She stood, ready to follow Musa out when she was stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll stay and check the ship for repairs. Tec," he was so close, and she couldn't find it in herself to rip herself away, especially in front of the others, "could you stay and help for a while?"

Damn it, damn it, _damn_ it. There was no way she could make up an excuse that fast. The others had already acknowledged his request and left, save for Piff who was still sleeping in the corner of the ship.

As soon as the door shut behind Layla and Ophir, Timmy let go of her shoulder. Silence passed between them.

"You don't really need my help, do you?"

Tecna didn't move an inch, didn't give in to the temptation to look into the hazel eyes that now peered at her with worry. Timmy had moved in front of her, a slightly hurt look etched on his face.

"I've noticed the way Musa looks at you nowadays."

He noticed. He _noticed_.

She let out a laugh, the hysterical noise a desperate attempt at keeping everything in control. "What do you mean? She doesn't like me like that, and you know I would never–"

"Stop beating around the bush, Tecna. Something's going on, I know you well enough to know that."

Tecna's not going to give him the satisfaction of meeting his gaze. She is not going to allow herself to let down her defences, not going to surrender to the temptation of being comforted by him. That would be utterly selfish.

"Tecna, please, you can tell me."

 _No. I can't._ Pleading was just going to make it worse. She's not going to break, not going to shut down in front of the person she cared for the most. No matter how much her heart ached, no matter how much her emotions screamed for her to stop, she's going to spare him the pain of losing her.

The words churned in her gut, and she could barely croak them out.

"We need to break up."

Timmy flinched as if he had been physically struck, his face crumpling into hurt. She finally looked up, steeling herself to drive the point home, and almost stopped. She caught a glimpse of the devastation on his face, the _hurt_ , Great Dragon, and broke a little.

 _I'm sorry, Timmy._

"No," he shook his head, "I'm not going to believe that. I'm not going to believe that you want to break up with me out of the blue for no reason."

He was convinced, reaching out a hand in an attempt to keep her from leaving. Oh, Great Dragon help her. This was not how it was supposed to go. This was eating her alive, bit by bit, knowing that _she_ was the cause of the pain that was clearly depicted on his face. She never wanted to hurt him.

She ripped herself out of his grasp, whirling around violently resulting in her grazing his outstretched hand. "Get away from me," she hissed.

She didn't even need to look back to see, to _feel_ the destroyed look on his face.

"Tecna, _please_. At least tell me why."

"People change. They grow apart. How hard is that to understand?" her voice was cracking under the strain. Every word was a dagger meant to sever the ties of their relationship, but they ended up wounding her instead. _I have to do this._

"That's a lie. But," he swallowed thickly, "if that is truly what you want,"

 _No. That is not what I want, not in a thousand years._

"Give me the reason. The truth. From you."

She kept the stony silence, kept the tough exterior going. But it was cracking, thin silvers branching in the shield.

"If you are truly unhappy, I won't force you. Even, even if–"

She broke.

"I don't _want_ to! Please, this is the best for you. I can't– I can't be with you if I want you to be happy. I'd rather let you go then, then have you unhappy on the basis of me. Just let me go. Please."

Her shoulders were shaking, and her arms lay crossed across her chest. Why was it so hard?

"Then why? I just don't want to see you unhappy, and it's completely illogical to say that you want to when you said it yourself that you don't."

He made no attempt to approach her, and Tecna couldn't tell whether she was pleased or upset. She'd set the distance herself, so why was her throat clenching?

"Funny," she set a bitter half-smile on her face, "how a few months ago logic ruled over your feelings, and now you find it so easy to confess."

Too late. Too late.

A hand gently cupped her face, calloused fingers grazing her cheeks. "Tecna," he whispered, "are you crying?"

She blinked. She never realised. "It's… no, I'm not, this isn't affecting me and it hasn't ever affected me and–"

"That sentence was very illogical, you realise that?"

Timmy was in front of her again, anchoring her down to the horrid reality that she'd ensued. When had everything gone so wrong?

"I really don't want to pry, Tecna, but ever since that other day, and the way Musa's been acting... did something happen?"

He was too close to the truth for Tecna's comfort. She couldn't lie, couldn't even dodge the direct question as that would be an equivalent to blatantly insulting his intelligence. He deserved the truth.

"I..." she fought to get the words out, her logic and emotions battling along with her clenched up throat. He'd be devastated. But she's got no other option, no plan B.

"I've not been well." Understatement of the year.

While Timmy's face grew increasingly concerned, he simply let her speak, dropping his hand but not his gaze. He waited patiently for her to get the stories of her trips out, waited for her ramble on consequences to end without so much as a hint of disinterest.

"And so, I quite possibly might be..."

She couldn't. She just couldn't coax the words out.

"I don't want to drag you down with me, Timmy."

She gained the courage to look up yet again, into Timmy's face. For the first time in the history she'd ever known him, she couldn't read him, couldn't decipher the emotions that flickered in his face. She's done it now. He's going to break down and cry and it's all because of her, the person who stomped on his heart and left it–

And then she was scooped up with such _ferocity_ that made her want to sob more.

"Please..." _please don't make it harder for me._

"I'm not going to abandon you for whatever illogical reason you've convinced yourself with. We're in this together."

"You're," choking back a cry, Tecna buried her head, "you're too kind to me."

"That's what heroes are for, no?"

* * *

A/N: Subtle Season 2 reference is very subtle. I'm not sure when the next chaps are coming up, but hopefully I can finish within this month! If I stick to my plotting timeline, we should have about 3 chapters left. If. Anyways, thank you for reading, love you all so so much!


	6. and she turns blind

A/N: I severely underestimated how busy I would be, so sorry! Also, I'm going to take the time here to say I just read the Six of Crows duology, which may or may not have influenced my writing. Those who've read it would know what it means for the story hehehe. So without further ado, same warnings and the next chapter!

Edit: Sorry if you got the notification and thought this was a new chapter, I just realised I made heck of an error yesterday! It's just a minor three word update, which was the result of me deleting a scene from... chapter 3? I'm not sure and updating at like 10 pm whoops, but I did add stuff in the closing note so you can go read that if you like.

* * *

For someone as logical minded as her, Tecna really hated labyrinths. Tecna just couldn't see the purpose, to lead people wayward just for the sake of it (although it does serve as a good defence strategy) and not get a simple, clean cut option. She hated the fact that they ran around in circles, where each path branches out to even ridiculous combinations. How do some people enjoy this? The very idea seems... preposterous to her.

Focus.

Labyrinths were no different than normal problems. Find the logical pathway. No matter how many different pathways logic will help her. It's just a simple Ariadne's Thread solution, finding combinations of errors until all solutions are found. Tedious, but certainly the most effective method.

It also gives one plenty of time to think.

Somehow, even though her severe dislike of labyrinths was weighing down on her along with the fate of the universe, it felt somewhat peaceful in the crystalline walls of the labyrinth. Quite unlike Eraklyon's, where the leaves threatened to scratch you with the smallest mistake you make; here, the walls seemed to shimmer even without any obvious light source. A glow that seemed somewhat, ethereal.

Not quite alive, not quite dead.

A bit like her, no?

Yes, her feet were still treading on, and her brain was still analysing the labyrinth, but for how much longer? It was inevitable, she'd known that, but she hadn't expected it to be that close. Or from this.

Only Musa knew, of the girls. Who'd be devastated. Her parents didn't know either.

Timmy did. As much as she didn't want him to.

Soft-spoken, kind-hearted, her absolute _world_ , the person she'd never want to see frown or cry especially on the account of her, would most likely do so.

Not that she was naïve enough to think that he didn't when...

Although, it would be nice to think so.

Her feet skidded to a halt, her hands scrambling for the wall. The blue, her _Enchantix–_

 _In and out. She pressed her body to the ice, the convicts' shadows stretching out from the outside of the shelter. Looming over the one and only entry and exit._

 _Her Enchantix was fading, fast. Was this something that was to be expected? Her standard form never faded that quickly. She could already feel the magic draining, leaking out of her in a fast-flowing stream._

 _She stood no chance. Once she passed out, she was left at the mercy of those... those goons who could kill her._

 _But dying was not an option._

 _She'd make it a little longer. She'd made it for three weeks (or at least, what seemed like three weeks), she can make it for another day. Another week. As long as it takes for the communicator to work._

 _She'd have to believe._

 _She held her breath as the footsteps stopped. Knuckles turning white, her fingers gripped the transmitter as if it were a lifeline. Which it was, at this point. Her last means of communication.  
_

 _Under no circumstances were the convicts going to get a hold of it. Over her dead body._

 _Which, at that point, would render it useless. Win-win for her._

 _The footsteps faded, the shadows retreated. She fell to her knees, the freezing cold no longer bothering her. Somehow... comforting. It crept into her veins, into her half-frozen wings that crackled in the frost. Into her voice, broken by the cold. Just... broken._

 _Her fingers were as pale as the ice around her, fumbling with the transmit button._

 _"I'm here."_

 _Timmy. Please. Anyone._

 _"Help me."_

 _They couldn't have given up. They couldn't. They weren't heartless._

 _But what if they were? What if they thought her dead? What if they had left her alone here, planning a funeral for her, while she's fighting to survive?_

 _What if it was all futile?_

 _"Help– Help me."_

 _Timmy'd never. He wouldn't. He'd never give up on her._

 _Such wishful thinking on her part._

The transmitter faded, the cold thawed into the unsettling stillness.

Damn it.

What happened to her cool-headedness? It was so stupid.

Her gloves caught on the walls of the labyrinth as she hauled herself up. Snagged on the very thing that imprisoned her. Great Dragon, she needed to get a grip on herself. The fate of the universe depended on her.

It was exhausting. Once was enough. But there wasn't much else she could do.

At least this time saving the world would also help her escape this place.

* * *

"Go left, and then left again."

Kind of unnecessary, but it somehow comforted her in a way. Just... reminding herself that all was not silent. Rooming with Musa had conditioned her to associate silence with something wrong.

She almost ran straight into Arcadia, who had materialised out of nowhere.

"You have arrived at your destination."

Thank the Great Dragon. She didn't know how much more she could've taken of the seemingly endlessly winding labyrinth.

"Yes, I knew logic would pay off!"

She quickly realised that Stella and Musa were not there. A pang of alarm shot through her. Had they gotten lost?

Arcadia seemed to have not cared about the absence of her other friends, for she continued to speak. Gesturing to some sort of... screen, Arcadia continued with her explanation.

"Through this door is a world of logic."

Numbers danced across the screen, flashing a brilliant green as they scrolled by at an impressive speed. Just looking at it made Tecna feel as if the answers for everything were there, as if everything had been explained and stored in an orderly fashion.

"Oh, wow."

"And through this door," the glassiness melted away to a familiar landscape, "is a world of feelings and joy."

 _My friends..._

She remembered that trip. Valtor's reign hadn't expanded far yet, with only Solaria and Andros seemingly affected. Relatively, everything was still peaceful, compared to everything that had happened after.

Stella and Bloom, or at least the memory of them were laughing at a joke. The rest entered the frame, smiling ear-to-ear.

And then she saw herself.

A broad grin was stretched on her face, and one of her hands was slung over Timmy's shoulder.

 _Timmy..._

Timmy gazed into her eyes, a gentle smile as he gave his full attention to her. His mouth shaped words, to which her vision replied to by hugging him tighter from behind.

"Choose a room, Tecna, but know that whichever one you choose, it is final. You may never enter the other again."

The numbers suddenly felt eerie. Unwelcome. _Cold_. Warmth radiated from the other room.

"Then," she swallowed, "I choose this one."

It couldn't be that easy. That much was obvious. But what could she lose to try? How much more could the world want her to lose?

Is it really a sin to be selfish sometimes?

Arcadia seemed to sense the hesitancy that tinged her voice. Was she imagining the softening of her face?

"But the exit is in the other. If you really want the water stars you must go into that room and give up emotions forever."

There it was. There's the ultimatum. The world or herself. Because the world doesn't give a damn about what she wants, no?

Arcadia held her gaze steadily, even as Tecna's swam with hot tears.

She turned her face away, looking at the crystalline floor. "That's cruel," she whispered, fury and rage silenced by the sheer hopelessness reflected in the floor.

"The choice is yours to make, Tecna."

Arcadia's illusions need some work. Choice? Hah. She knew that truly, there was really no choice. Just a pre-planned pathway just waiting to be set in motion. Making her think that she had control in her fate, how utterly considerate of Arcadia.

Arcadia knew. Arcadia _knew_ the odds, how they would balance each other in such a situation. Her own happiness versus everyone else's safety and well-being. The benefits greatly outweigh themselves in the other option, with more people having an improvement to their life (or at the very least, them still living on). The logically sound option would be to relinquish her emotions for the greater good. The only viable option, too, realistically.

Or at least, that's what the old Tecna would have said.

The old Tecna, the one who had entered Alfea with a fresh-faced naïvety of the world, the one coddled by the practical cradle of Zenith's lifestyle. The old Tecna, the one who had logic ruling over her heart, rationality her trusty steed.

That Tecna was gone. Completely.

This Tecna had finally experienced what people called 'emotions'. An odd experience, as they say back in Zenith. She'd experienced empathy, she'd experienced sadness, anger, embarrassment, joy...

She'd... she'd experienced love.

Love. By all reasoning, by all the principles she had grown up alongside, love should not be but the smallest speck in her life.

She remembered her father, scoffing when she saw an advertisement in Solaria featuring two people gazing into each other's eyes. "Bah, those two will definitely end up regretting their 'love'," turning away pointedly from the display. "Come now, Tecna, let's go and meet your mother, she's probably wondering where we are."

Eight-year-old Tecna had lingered in front of the poster, before trailing after her father, following in his footsteps. He had walked so surely.

That was when eight-year-old Tecna had turned her back on love, the vile creature that her father had painted to be the destroyer of order. Its uncertainty can bring chaos, too much would uproot your life, he had said.

Staring at another display of love, eighteen-year-old Tecna agreed.

Love had brought along chaos in its wake. It had destroyed the precious order she had fought so hard to maintain, flung the roots of her entire being away. There was nothing predictable, nothing Tecna could sit down and thread through to find answers for.

Love was true chaos, true uncertainty, a being with many faces. It came in the form of Stella sticking her nose in her life where it shouldn't be, in the form of Flora suggesting that she get a little sun. It showed itself when Layla acknowledged Tecna's concerns over Ophir, when Bloom held her as if there was no tomorrow, when Musa promised to not speak a word, tears staining her face still.

But above all, above all the wreckage it left in its wake, it was _true_.

As true as the fact that she was stalling, as true as the fact that she could not decide. As true as the fact that the image had shifted in front of her, and a dashing boy with a tousled mop of ginger hair was smiling crookedly in front of her.

Her voice caught in her throat, much like how her heart had been caught by the very same person in front of her.

She didn't even realise that she was walking towards him until her gloved hands skimmed the surface of the door, the image ever so slightly wavering from the slight contact.

The chaos she can welcome, even embrace. It was all worth it for the soothing warmth that enveloped her as she met his eyes – the vision's eyes – and grazed the surface of his palms.

As true as the power that flowed in her veins, no matter how tainted it was. As true as the smile that spread unwittingly on her face, as true as the comfort she gained even by the palest of imitations of him.

Love was as true as her love for him. Timmy.

As true as the fact she had to go. That she had to save the world, one more time.

The world left no space for selfishness.

The cold crept in, threading through her fingers as she turned away, a lump in her throat made of ice. The world had melted away, leaving the two of them behind.

She could feel his eyes boring into her, confused and sad. The sorrow stung her twice as hard, stinging like ice well in the negatives. She relished it, the pain that made her a living being.

Her feet skidded on the floor, friction burning her heels as she pulled away quickly, as if tearing a bandage from a wound. _For the world_. Not for her.

She was drowning, drowning in the dimly lit depths of unexplored emotions. Sorrow, grief, longing, want. But she will not yield, not like a few hours ago. The battering waves nothing against her.

"Goodbye, Timmy."

Her feet led the way, walking with the pretence of assuredness and decisiveness. Sharp ice stabbed her with every step, and she feared her heart will stop.

The foreign numbers greeted Tecna like an old friend.

Sorrow washed over her once again, before,

Nothing.

* * *

The wait was long. Long and short.

ERROR: CONTRADICTING VALUES

What was the wait for?

Wait (verb):

1) stay where one is or delay action until a particular time or event.

2) remain in readiness for a purpose.

In conclusion, the wait was initiated to serve the goal of maximising the effectiveness of a certain action or event. A continued wait should be carried out, until circumstances were to change.

The environment has been thoroughly scrutinised. No changes have been detected.

Waiting seems to be the default option for the other specimens present. An orderly movement. The most logical solution.

This voice... where did it come from? An odd voice commanding actions, although it seemed as though it was a normal occurrence. None of the other beings started, confirming the hypothesis that it came from within her subconscious.

A sign of sentience. Free will, a concept somehow both familiar and foreign.

ERROR: DOES NOT COMPUTE

No good is done dwelling on the unknown, or at least for a being of rationale. Observation is a more productive form of passing time.

A shift in the molecules stirred, the materialisation of a life form imminent. Perhaps this is what the wait is for?

The being was definitely aligned with positive energy, the light radiating in a manner similar to the thousand suns of the dimension.

LINK: RADIANCE TO SUN POWERS.

A rational connection would be to the sun. Further observations hint at alignment to other celestial bodies, lunar influence significant. Wings hinted at a higher-level fairy, confirmed Enchantix by star vial.

The fairy would be a fine ally.

Social etiquette calls for introductions, and that shall be done as the first order of business. "The most logical course would be some basic introductions, fairy of sun and moon."

The other's body stance held the look of an overload. Overloads are often caused by broken processors, not an uncommon practice. Did the introduction fail?

Nevertheless, the oddest feature of the fairy was her face. Facial appearances were usually upheld by the highest of regards in fairies and were used to establish one's class.

"That face would do you no good in life. Counter spells rectify any mistakes."

The oddly shaped eyes shrunk in size, and the line that made up the fairy's mouth tightened. "Thank you for noticing, Tecna."

ERROR: NO RESULTS FOUND

Tecna does not match any words in her vocabulary. A foreign word.

Searching RWW...

Match.

Profile pulled up.

 _Tecna Vitalia, a northern Zenithian hailing from the capital, is a member of the Winx Club and notable for her actions during the Andros/Omega Incident. One of the senior members of the Technomagic Society, Vitalia has made important contributions to the molecular magic field that has led to the vast progression of said field._

"Vitalia was an extraordinary fairy, but there was a failure to establish any connection between current conversation and Vitalia."

The fairy turned around 79 degrees clockwise, right in the line of sight of an even more abnormal presence. "What have you done to her?!"

Such a display of anger is only a waste of energy. The Solarian, or so assumed to be one, did not seem to care, a foolish decision. The rage left her vulnerable. Weak.

A voice, wizened by knowledge, answered the demands. "We have done nothing to her. We simply gave her a choice, and this is the one she chose."

The Solarian was silent.

"Your anger is illogical. Perhaps a few deep breaths will calm you down, fairy of sun and moon."

"My name is Stella. Stella Solaris. You know me, Tecna."

Stella Solaris, crown princess and light of Solaria. A certain sense of familiarity was attached to the title. The royal was oddly... unappealing for one.

"Compelling, but facial recognition failed. Lack of grace and sophistication."

The odd eyes were squinted, and signs of distress were detected.

"This matter is insignificant in light of events. Materialisation is imminent. Possible hostiles."

Indeed, another being materialised, not unlike how... the Solarian Princess did. This one was also a fairy, sporting looks that were typical Melodian characteristics. A fairy of unknown descent accompanied her, description unique enough to warrant a search.

Searching...

ONE MATCH: ARCADIA, FIRST ORDER FAIRY.

Arcadia looked expectant. The wait was finally over.

"You did well, fairies of Alfea." A mermaid began.

Alfea was a prestigious school for fairies, located in the heart of Magix and part of the Order of the Three Greats. It would be reasonable for the princess of Solaria to be sent off to a prestigious school, although the same may not apply to the Melodian. No match was found within the influencers.

You did well replayed. No task was in the immediate database.

ERROR: NO RESULTS FOUND. RETRY?

What was the task that had been done well?

"Well, tell that to my boyfriend when he sees this mug," said the Solarian, who seemed to be… asserting her superiority.

"You have proven that you care more about the world than you care about your own self."

Self-identity was not in the databases. What was the purpose of deeming one life more important than the rest? The benefits greatly outweigh themselves in saving more people, as this would ensure that more would have an improvement to their lives.

"And so," another voice interjected, "we will entrust you with the Water Stars."

Water Stars. Something connected, an old pathway firing off signals that had gone dormant. The Water Stars were going to be a vital component in the aid of the defeat of Valtor, who had threatened the entirety of the Magical Dimension. Everything slotted into place, and a fuller image of the situation emerged. The retrieval of these artefacts was highly likely the causation of the wait.

Arcadia went to retrieve the box, producing a box that contradicted the flow of time. Not unusual, since it was an artefact of high magical properties.

"They are as old as the universe. These are extremely precious; they are imbued with the only kind of power that can extinguish the dragon fire so I wish you good luck."

One was offered in the general direction. "Luck has no bearing on outcome of mission."

Perhaps a nod of appreciation was in order, seeing the other's expressions of thanks, but it seemed illogical to do so. From what had been gathered, they had well deserved it. Facts were not to be argued with.

"Use this box to carry them."

Arcadia made to leave, then stopped abruptly.

"Oh, and one more thing. You're not much fun just being a by-the-numbers girl."

Fairy dust, a component of magic which has almost infallible healing and counter spell properties–

* * *

Empathy, the burn of the hurt look on the Solarian– no, _Stella's_ face at the remark.

Sadness, the ripping of a thousand spells at her being, a numbness that seemed to have kept her from this sensation.

Anger, the irresponsible and incomprehensible fury, embarrassment, joy...

Joy? Was that truly joy that was creeping in the corners, slowly returning? Joy for what?

A bitter, selfish, mix of distaste and relief, for it did seem as if nothing had needed to be sacrificed.

All the ruin, the emptiness that now stood gaping like a sinkhole for nought, for a trail that had no effect?

Yet…

The love was back. The chaos and destruction trailing in its wake, the fallen kingdom smouldering. The love for her friends and how there would be no thinking twice over giving up body and soul for them, the sadness and anger pulling like a tide, then freezing over with a burn rivalling–

The love, the love that had been torn over and bulldozed by another act of love.

Tecna couldn't sort out whether she was truly happy to remember.

* * *

A/N: RWW is the contraction for realm-wide web.

Next Day Edit: So now that I'm actually not falling asleep at my desk I'll take the time to gather my thoughts. About the length of this fic, I have finally finalised the chapters! I promise there aren't any major changes in my planned timeline unless like, a chapter gets too long _which_ would also be a double update at that point. So what I plan to do is roll out a chapter a month if possible, which should give me ample of time? Don't take my word for it though, I am just trying to keep my grades and sleep schedule up with an insane schedule. I'm getting a little off-track aren't I hahaha! If anyone's interested, I've also made a playlist for this fic on Spotify which does contain slight spoilers if you really pay attention, but feel free to give it a listen, I'll have it linked on my profile!

Back to the topic of next chapter, it only seems fair if I give a tiny little summary of the plan, since it might be over a month until I can update. It may or may not be considered filler for you guys, but I'm really just going to tie up the platonic relationships between the girls, and I'm going to explore the dynamics of three girls at a time. Don't worry, the romance is also going to be building up for the final which frankly I am really excited to write (sorta), so do stay tuned for that! Again, thank you guys for reading this and interacting with this fic of mine, it means a lot especially since this is my first big recreational project!


	7. but the warmth spreads through

A/N: I'm back! Ok, this chapter is not as long as I thought it would be, but still pretty long. Sorry for the long wait, school is seriously trying to kill me through the lack of sleep. Thank heavens for the random long weekend we got a while back though! This fic I can safely say is definitely nearing the end, we only have one chapter left! And not sponsored but I really suggest you guys should bulk buy those tissues before that, seriously. I almost cried reading my chapter draft. Back to this chapter, the fic is starting to get less structured, and this chapter could be counted as a bit of filler, but still important ones for establishing character motivations. I tried my best to keep everyone in character, but I am human so I apologise for any OOC-ness. Something to note: warnings for a heavy panic attack ahead, though I promise next chapter will be sweeter to balance it a bit out. Previous warnings still apply. Without further ado, please enjoy!

* * *

Tecna'd finally told them.

She did so on her own accord, something she didn't really expect to happen, really. She'd always imagined that they would be none the wiser, not knowing until perhaps the very end. Or that somehow, she'd manage to get herself killed by the Trix or Valtor, and therefore literally taking her secret to the grave.

But that wouldn't have been fair on them. They deserved to know. To know that... that they hadn't had much time left with her. If any at all.

It had been a quiet evening, one of the few they had been graced with in the light of the upcoming battle with Valtor. They all knew that it was high tide in coming, but there were several uncertainties of which no-one had to answer to. When. How. Where. Whether... whether they would all make it through.

Tecna was wondering whether she'd even make it to the final confrontation.

A light current of electricity sparked from the tips of her fingers, a green sheen tinting her hands for a brief second before flickering out. It was as if her powers had been given a mind of its own. Or simply preoccupied with surviving. She knew how that could affect someone.

The others were all preoccupied with their own research or lack of thereof. Bloom, ever the resilient fairy, was diligently flipping through a list of activation spells, marking off those she deemed to be useful. Flora stood at her shoulder, a tired look etched on her face. They were the only two who weren't worn out from the long afternoon they'd spent doing the same thing. As Solarians say, "dust dulls the diamonds", or how recreation is necessary for efficiency; which was exactly why Stella had taken to an impromptu manicure session. Musa, unperturbed, was slowly drifting off with a pair of headphones on, only kept awake by Layla's constant nudging.

It's not that they didn't care, Tecna knew that. It's just that everyone was completely exhausted, drained from nerves and the knowledge of that they were completely blind to what was going to happen. Stella's manicure was in fact hopelessly lopsided, though the blonde seemed to not have noticed.

Tecna herself was no exception, fighting back the lull of sleep that dared to tug at the edge of her vision. She couldn't, wouldn't. Not when ice and frost were still lurking in the shadows.

It had been at this point where Flora looked up. "Are you alright, darling?"

What should she answer with? _Yes, just a little tired? Or no, since I could quite possibly cease living at any given time with what little they know is happening to me?_

It could have been seconds. Minutes. Hours. But all she knew is that she had taken too long to answer and that everyone was now staring at her.

"Yes," she bit back the truth, "yes, just a little..."

Tecna knew she had plenty of flaws, as did everyone else. She could be brash, cold, and a little ego-centric. But she had never been a liar. It just wasn't in her.

Musa made a little noise, an indiscernible emotion hinted in the notion, before pointedly turning to the nondescript wall opposite her. Even then, the disappointment that radiated off of her in waves was clearly noticeable.

"Is there something you're not telling us, Tecna?" this time it was Stella, a dash of betrayal in her voice.

Tecna didn't even know how she managed to splutter the words out. She didn't even realise she had sat up straighter, bracing herself for the onslaught of words that she knew were coming. Everything was a blur. Just... a high-speed reel of shock and worry, hope and faith.

 _How could they still have faith? After all this_... Tecna remembered musing bitterly after hearing Bloom's words. _We will get through this_. She'd had lost hers three months ago.

* * *

They'd all eventually left when dawn cracked. Tecna herself had gotten up to freshen up when a lithe hand clamped on her shoulder, nails digging into the skin hard enough to elicit a small yelp.

"Sorry," a voice rang out softly, obviously weighed down by something unsaid. "I didn't realise how sharp my nails were."

Tecna whirled around to meet Stella's amber eyes, where conflict was waging war in her gaze. "It's fine. It didn't hurt," even though she could feel the red welts forming on her shoulder, "not really."

The slightest hint of a smile lit up on Stella's face, however, it disappeared as fast as it had appeared. "You don't have to lie to me, y'know. I know that I'm not exactly the nicest person to be around and that I'm pretty much a shallow b–"

Tecna cut her off. "Is this about the water star trials?"

Blinking, Stella started as if she had forgotten all about it. "No, no, it's just that– I know I, um– _ugh_ , why is it so hard to say this?" she let out a lengthy exhale, crossing her arms in the process. "I'm just... I'm sorry."

"Wait, what?" Tecna blinked hard, making sure she wasn't missing anything glaringly obvious. As far as she remembered, there hadn't been any unsolved grievances between the two of them recently, nothing unsolved at the very least. What could she have been apologising for?

"I'm sorry for ever calling you too uptight, too 'uncool', too... too serious I guess. I'm sorry for not laughing at your jokes or basically whenever you tried to cheer us up. I guess... I'm just sorry I didn't appreciate you enough."

"Stella..."

Stella made a sound that suspiciously sounded like a repressed sob. "You have every right to call me shallow, stupid, vapid, someone who just doesn't get people. Like, if I were you I totally would call me that. I took you for granted, and I should have never ever done that."

A slight pause. "I know– I know I have never been the best of friends with you. And it was so stupid of me to not tell you just how," another suspicious sniffle, "how good of a person you are before all this."

This whole exchange was so out of Tecna's comfort zone that she had absolutely no starting point where she could even begin to address what Stella was saying. She knew exactly how much it was costing the Solarian princess to say this. Unbeknownst to many, Stella was actually quite a reserved person, keeping her deepest feelings for only her closest confidants.

Tecna really didn't know what else to do but gather Stella for a hug.

"I'm," Tecna finally found her voice again, "I'm sorry too, Stell."

What exactly was she sorry for? For not accepting her friend as she was? For not appreciating her enough? For not having much more time left with her?

No. Tecna was sorry for all three.

But somehow, even with everything in front of her, she wasn't afraid. She knew that Stella'd, _they'd_ be right there, by her side.

* * *

"Yes, mother. I'll be sure to mention it to her. I cannot guarantee anything, mother." Pause. "Yes, I know that this will be good for Andros' interplanetary relationships but this my _friend_ we are talking about mother! I will not force any burden of guilt on her, especially with all she's done already. May I propose that Chancellor Gails speaks with the head commissioner to sort all this? Yes, I know that–"

Tecna realised too late that that conversation had not been for her ears. She had no place within the political atmosphere of Andros, no matter how interesting it was with the whole dual committee background. Although, she might need to start being more involved, especially due to the whole Zenithian-Androsian talks going on.

Yes, the tensions had indeed somewhat simmered over time, but there was still a lingering feeling of charged air whenever the two realms met for the bi-weekly peace talks (or battle plans, courtesy of Valtor's threat). Layla herself had been subject to many questions from nosy reporters in Magix, much to her chagrin. Another reason why she tried not to step out on her lonesome.

But the fact was there was still tension. The next Zenithian Solstice was coming up, and although Tecna was looking forward to seeing her family again, she knew that it would hardly be a quiet affair due to–

"Hey, Tec."

Layla had evidently finished her conversation with her mother on the holophone and had unfortunately caught Tecna right outside the door of the common room.

"I wasn't eavesdropping, I swear on–"

Layla shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I was looking for you, anyways."

Tilting her head slightly to the left, Tecna got a good look at Layla. The conversation with her mother must have rattled her, judging from the hesitance in the way she held herself.

"My mother called to discuss the Zenith-Andros political relationship. You probably already know... things aren't looking too good. On top of the whole Valtor situation, our economy is suffering. The aid that Andros received from Zenith has been all but cut off."

Zenith took great pride in their own reputation, Tecna knew that. But she didn't know that they would stoop as low as _this_ , to deny aid to a struggling country. Yes, national pride was important but what about compassion? The very fact that a Zenithian had chosen to... well, save that realm should have been enough to ensure that the notion was kept.

"What happened?" What had changed Zenith's mind? The fact that Tecna was for all intents still not a full-fledged member of society weighed heavily on her mind. Her family lacked the connections for access to the state. This proved to be ironic as Tecna did end up sharing a dorm with three other princesses. However, the fact was that Tecna clearly was missing a line of the equation.

"It's not really what happened but more of what didn't happen. Andros – my family – completely brushed aside what happened after the memorials were finished, more so after we found you. Zenith noticed and made an announcement that was broadcasted across the web... and they decided to withdraw soon after."

Tecna'd seen the announcement, but at that time thought nothing of it. As the realm responsible for the creation of the said network, they'd often make global announcements for updates and the likes (which now Tecna realised were actually thinly-veiled propaganda). The most recent one, dated the 15th of November, spoke of how "technology's memory is infallible".

Realms above. Some divine force must be keeping the two realms apart. Or maybe it was just Valtor's influence that kept the realms at bay.

She replayed Layla's words in her head before a phrase stood out to her _. After the memorials._

"Wait, Layla, what memorials?"

Layla froze. Tecna noted that her eyes briefly darted to a non-descript shell hanging near the entrance, one that Tecna hadn't noticed before.

Shells were the means of communication with the beings of the Sea within Layla's realm, which held significance in itself for the Sea was viewed as a revered place for spirits. Tradition dictated that one communicated with any departed for at least a week, to dispel any restlessness that may have remained.

The shell was spelt a hazy blue and hung by its tail on the side of the entrance nearest to Tecna's room.

"Oh."

They'd thought Tecna had died. Layla, Musa, Flora... all of them thought that she had died, died in the fall or the actual sacrifice or shortly after she (miraculously) ended up in the Omega.

"You all– you all thought I was dead."

She shouldn't be surprised. Hell, even she thought that– when she first made the decision to, to sacrifice herself. She could understand the news outlets, the royals. They hadn't been there. But... she'd– it never really hit her. That they had truly thought her dead. Thought that, while she was fighting for her life.

Had she been the one in their shoes, she would have thought the same. It was simply illogical to think otherwise. With such impossible circumstances, the chances would have been incredibly slim. Virtually zero. But to have been the one lost, the one left for dead...

 _Glacial chills clutched her. A sorrowful howl slithered through the caverns, mourning for the lost._

Layla was saying something, words forming in rapid bursts of... Morse? Is that what Bloom had called it?

A hand grabbed hers.

"Where'd you think you're going?"

The glint of steel, reflecting off the cascade of light. The eyes that bore into her reminded her of coffee, bitter black horrid liquid that scalded her on a hazy morning. She hadn't had coffee in so long. Bloom used to bring some from Earth for them.

She stumbled forward, body tipping over like a blade of grass – figments of her imagination, for nothing that beautiful could ever exist in a world so cold– caught in the wind. The transmitter clung on feverishly in her grasps, as if it were the one scrambling for purchase, for something, for hope or for the light or for the desperate echoes to live live _live_ –

It was a dissonant chorus of voices, male and female entangled together, rising and falling to the beat of her hammering heart, somehow motivating and hopeless at the same time.

Hot pain lashed her back, bringing forth a silence to the horrible damned voices that pushed her to run and save herself and survive to live to live and everything was too bright–

She could no longer distinguish the voices around her. Friend or foe, hells Valtor could walk up and she wouldn't even be able to tell.

She was just so tired.

Someone was taunting her, slamming her hand to the ground in an attempt to soften her grip on the device that had the last feeble tether to a world where she was free to live. She was bleeding somewhere, that she could still tell even through her blurred vision – from tears or from exhaustion? – through the warmth that trickled down.

"Tecna? Hey. Can you hear me?"

How'd they known her name? Tecna. One she had worn with such pride. Tecna Vitalia, the girl who could move worlds if she thought of it. Who embraced emotions, flourishing despite the fact that she had little experience reigning them.

Who died closing the Omega Portal.

She was just a ghost, wandering the depths of the Omega attempting to avenge the person she used to be.

"Sweetie, hey. You're safe with us."

Flowers. She'd be damned if the Omega actually had a blooming memorial somewhere. What could survive in all this ice?

 _Broken souls._

She'd stopped bleeding, or she was just so drenched in blood that she couldn't tell the cold air from her skin. Or it was the fabled warmth of the Great Dragon when it wrapped around you as it guided you to the Golden Kingdom.

A sharp tang filled the air, one that felt somehow... somehow purer than the chill. It felt open, free, welcoming. So unlike the secretive cold, the one that held its viciousness under false pretences.

"You're at Alfea. Just take a deep breath, no-one's going to hurt you. It's going to be okay, sweetie."

Flora?

Her voice felt real.

Should she trust her?

Allies were becoming a foreign concept to her.

A fantasy. Perhaps in another life, another time, they existed. People who weren't out to maim you. People who would rather leave you be instead of going out of their way to kill you. Loyalty. Love.

The longing of a lingering soul.

But it felt warmer. Like the sun had risen. Like the night had given way to dawn.

Slowly, she realised her heart had softened its frantic pumps of adrenaline. Not entirely calm, but gentler. The soft rhythm of a hymn.

A pair of eyes were still boring into her. But these were different. Soft green emeralds that spoke of the serenity that had seemed so out of reach.

"...Flora?"

The... girl? Woman? in front of her smiled softly. Sincerely.

Tecna blinked.

And it all came crashing down, blown apart by slightest flutter. She crumpled into Flora's arms, not really sure of who she was or where she was or _hells_ , even when it was, but suddenly Tecna felt at home, home where everything was safe and where no one was polishing a blade ready to stab her in the back–

She trembled, the sting of Dragon-knows-what kept at bay only by Flora's hands, crumbling bit by bit like ashes blown in the wind. Like melting ice.

And the tears broke free of the dam, surging with abandon.

* * *

"I knew I never should've brought it up, I'm so sorry!"

Layla burst through the door, a flurry of activity balancing a cup of tea precariously on a tray. Even from her vantage point at her bed Tecna was able to see the liquid sloshing, spilling a tad over the side.

"No, it was my fault to react so..." Illogically, irrationally, the first words that sprang to mind after years of suppressing her emotions, "so harshly."

Because what was the point of living emotionless?

Layla didn't seem to hear, setting down the tea on Tecna's desk. Turning her face to an undescriptive wall, she heaved a sigh. "After everything you've done for my realm, this is what I repay you with. A cup of damn tea."

"It should have been me. I know it should've. I am the princess of Andros, for Dragon's sake. And what do I do? I let one of my best friends almost die–"

Silence. The words took on another meaning, one where the both of them would much rather ignore.

"You are an absolute hero to Andros. And what does the Androsian council do? Milk your sacrifice for all its worth! It's such a _disgrace_ ," the last word was practically hissed, hatred clear in her words.

"And when we found you! They erased you from the news. Oceans above, it was like it never happened. In all honesty, Andros deserved what Zenith did."

"No," Layla looked up, the anger subsiding slightly. "Zenith's wrong."

"They both have a common enemy: Valtor. What's the point of denying allies aid?"

"No offence, Tec, but you know how bull-headed Zenith is." One of Zenith's many great assets, yet fatal flaw at the same time. That characteristic made sure nothing got in the way of progress, but also blinded the realm to compassion and second chances.

"And that was what I was gonna ask you. My mother thought it would help if Andros used some of its fund to erect a statue of you near the island, as a... commemoration."

"...Me?"

"You're a hero, Tec. More noble and brave than all of us put together. And that should never be lost to history. I'm so sorry for being too much of coward–" Tecna wanted to protest, but Layla cut her off. "No, I am. I'm so damn sorry for making you go through all that and how this is the only thing I can do for you."

Tecna hoped that she would be able to see it.

"You don't need my permission, Layla."

* * *

"Tecna Vitalia!" Musa's voice was raised, pitchy, as she slammed the door to their shared room. "I cannot _believe_ that you haven't been telling us _anything_ , you idiot!"

The last time Musa had truly been angry was when the Trix attacked Alfea. Her eyes had given Bloom's dragon fire a run for their money, the azure practically smouldering. It was as if a short circuit had exploded, charring the rest of the world around Musa and the victim of her fury.

Musa advanced on her, and Tecna could now see that her shoulders were trembling, her stiff stance cracking. It was no matter to her, as Tecna clutched the tablet closer to her chest. "I haven't done anything wrong!"

"It's not what you've done," Musa's voice grew shriller still, "it's what you didn't do! How you never told us, told me, hells told _Timmy_ about– oh, I should have noticed– but with everything, you're our friend Tecna! Don't–"

"I'm okay on my own, you guys have Valtor to worry about." And that was true, as mass extinctions were far more important than a single fairy's mental health.

" _Okay_?! Okay doesn't normally –doesn't rationally since it's your favourite word– breaking down at the slightest mention of that horrid place. We could've, I could've–"

And Musa launched herself at Tecna witch such a force that knocked the breath out of her.

"I can't lose you. Not like her. I can't." her muffled voice was completely devoid of anger, all the hatred evaporated. "I need you, Tecna."

"You have Layla and the rest of the girls," and her voice wobbled too, because how does one keep her composure at a moment like this?

"But they're not _you_. None of them was there for my first days at Alfea. You were the first one to encourage me to pursue music again. The first to actually sit down and listen to me play that song I wrote about my father. None of them could ever..."

"I–" no apology could ever begin to mend the cracks. So Tecna let the rest of her sentence trail off, cut off prematurely.

One of the last untainted memories Tecna had of that day was of Musa. Before their group split up, the two of them had faced each other, Musa in her Enchantix and Tecna in her Winx. Clenching a fist over their hearts, they'd nodded silently before making their separate ways. _Come home, by the purity of our song. I'll return to thee, thine melody_. An old Melodian gesture for good luck. Musa had done it with her since the Battle for Alfea. She had been surprised that Tecna knew the gesture.

Another instance she remembered was the blurry form of Musa, face etched in indescribable pain. The burn of the negative charge had almost been too much to bear, yet Musa had battled through it to see her. Fighting for the slightest chance to save _her_.

Musa released Tecna from her grasp, instead choosing to thread her hands together. "We could still try. Zenith would be willing to–"

"No, Musa." She would not become Frankenstein's monster. Zenith was the realm of progress, that is true, but it was also the realm where the lines between biotic and abiotic blurred. Tecna herself was not purely organic, in fact just a little over seventy percent organic, the minimum required for her to still be able to support magic.

Her mother had called her a few days ago, frantic voice tripping over the words for the first time in her life, over an experimental treatment she'd concocted with the rest of her co-workers at Zenith's General Hospital. They could try to save her, she had said, but that would require her to be strapped to machines for months on end. Tecna had interrogated her mother further, and she had reluctantly mentioned that it was not guaranteed to work, either.

That would mean she would have to watch, immobilised yet fairly safe, watch as her friends charged into death's lair. She would be leaving her friends for death in exchange for the faint sliver of life.

The Specialists, the few guys who actually entertained her boyish interest of mechanics, treating her like equals. The Winx, the people who she would trust with her life. Musa, her closest companion. And Timmy, Great Dragon, the one who understood her the most and would never ever abandon her for himself.

She could never betray the people she held dearest.

"I can't just let you all face Valtor without me. No. You guys are my world, and what good would it be to live in a world without you all? I am coming with you," and her tone left no space for protest, "and that is final."

But this Musa, a fairy just as stubborn as her and with twice the amount of determination. "We need you too. Hells, we need you just as much as you need as and we could never just let you go straight in certain death. Please," and she was sincere, pleading for the light of hope to not flicker off, "just... we would never be the same."

"No. I'm coming, whenever it may be, and no amount of words can stop me," tilting her head, a defiant glint shone in her eyes as she met Musa's gaze. "I'm going to help you defeat Valtor or die trying."

Musa was silent. An uncommon occurrence, and a dangerous one at that. But she spoke up, sorrow heavy on the light tone that had once been home to a symphony of notes.

"I would," she swallowed, as if she were forcing the words out against her will, "I would do the same."

Tecna was not going to question the logic behind her actions, for she knew had the situation been reversed she would do the same.

It's funny how they'd always try for the fleeting things that were far out of reach.

* * *

A/N: Lots and lots of headcanon-ing going on, especially for the political atmosphere. But on another note, seriously, go out and buy the tissues. Don't say I didn't warn you. At this moment in time I believe you won't have to wait nearly as long for the next chapter, so expect it in a bit less than a month. Please review, they make the world go round (and cheer up this writer)! Thank you all for reading until here and I hope you have a wonderful day!

(P.S. Playlist link is still up on my profile, but again, not necessary! Just if you really want to make yourself cry next chapter, I guess. I swear next chap is going to be more fluffy, promise!)


	8. her tired soul

A/N: It's been five months. I've never thought I'd get here, but we're here. At the end. This is not the place where I gush though, that's next week with the epilogue. But this is the actually the end. Thank you all for supporting this. You made this possible. Concealed warning ahead, but it's been coming.

* * *

It was the perfect happy ending. The villain was vanquished, and the heroes got to live happily ever after.

For most of them, at the very least. Timmy himself was looking forward to graduating and finally being able to pursue his dreams of inventing, but he couldn't bring himself to fully savour his dreams.

Not when the person he owed his dreams to wouldn't be in the crowds later, wouldn't be there to greet him. Wouldn't get to live her dreams alongside his.

What made him any better from her? What made him more deserving of his dreams than her?

Her name brought on new depths of despair. The sense of futility. Yet, it was as if reality has not completely settled in.

He had caught himself drifting during lunch multiple times, just simply imagining what life would be like in a couple of months. And she'd always be there. By his side, a hand entwined in his, or chin resting on his shoulder, bright eyes reflecting the codes that were scrolling erratically.

Sometimes he'd go further, two or three years, and she'd be in his arms, a titanium band around her ring finger, kissing him like there was no tomorrow.

Now, wasn't that ironic?

It was enough for him to snap back to reality, a sharp pang of lost times heavy in his heart. And yet, a foolish glimmer of hope remained, stoking his dreams from the little spark. Hope. Foolish irrational hope that he clung onto against all advice, for the perfection of life that he'd thought had been planned to the finest details.

Akin to staring an apocalypse in the eyes, waiting for the final explosion, knowing that the carnage would knock him off his feet and leave him within the grasps of death; waiting with the small possibilities of surviving. It was if fate had plucked his glasses off of him, crumbled them into dust and ashes and left him blind. Hope stood as the beacon, and he stumbled in his desperate bid for light.

He couldn't even say her name. If he did, he feared that he would crumble, shatter at the two syllables of loveliness and kindness and– oh, those beautiful eyes that he adored would forever be closed and how could he live with that?

He was weak. A coward. Not brave, not heroic. And his girlfriend was all that and more, slightly chipped but still more splendid than he would ever be–

And it hit, with a sudden jolt that reached deep within his bones, when he looked upon his phone and saw an advertisement for the newest phone from the brand she loved so much, one estimated for release within the next two years.

He'd come so close to losing her. He dragged her out of hell with his own two hands, and that was still not enough.

He was still going to lose the best thing he'd ever had.

Suddenly he was a little boy again, packing up his favourite clock that he'd taken apart with much gusto many times over. It wasn't really the clock that brought tears to his eyes, it's the memories of picking apart the gears with his cousin who would no longer be within walking distance after Timmy's family moved. He didn't really understand why they had to move, just that they were leaving and he wouldn't see his cousin again.

He'd thought that nothing would trump the pain that resided in his heart then. His cousin had always said that one would never stop discovering, even after they thought they'd known it all, and in that moment, a blinding rush of pain in his very veins, he realised it was the same for pain and not just new combinations of circuits and wires.

He really couldn't be brave, not even for her; tears the candour of his character.

And he sat there, for seconds or minutes or hours he doesn't know, but he sat there and all he could think is that she's going to die and oh Dragon she could be dying and he wouldn't know–

 _Call her._

 _If not for her, for you._

His fingers hovered over the call button, her picture smiling sweetly back at him, and lingered in the air. Scores of failed calls dotted the history, desperate foolish attempts.

Ignorance is bliss. Ignorance is foolish.

Before he could decide, the door slammed open and Riven called for him; gruff tone softening after setting his eyes on Timmy.

Timmy didn't want to hear any of it. Asking if someone was okay at a time like this was simply illogical.

He got up, stalking to the dining hall, phone clutched like a vice to hide the tremble.

* * *

They had won. By some miraculous stroke of luck, they had won, vanquished Valtor and saved the Magical Dimension.

Stories often ended there, and for most, it did, as they went back to their daily routines, settling back into calmness and an assured tomorrow.

After Valtor's reign, the exam period seemed like a blessing, with many diving in head-first in the material and choosing to forget the events that had happened during the year. Fair enough.

Unfortunately for Tecna, that simply was not an option.

Memory spell after memory spell failed to wipe her experiences completely, being far too ingrained to be reached without damage to other memories. It was risky enough as it was, due to the risk of magical overload from her dragon-forsaken condition.

So instead, the team had ushered her out, telling her to redirect her attention to school work and the likes. She hadn't been planning on slacking off in the first place, but how were they to know?

For the past few days, she had relied purely on auto-pilot, going through the motions of studying for Magiology and the likes, the days and nights blurring together as one. She couldn't even tell one from the other, nor when twilight gave way to night.

It didn't help that she had spent almost all the free time she had after the exams sleeping, something deep inside her completely exhausted even after the slightest physical activity. On some days, she could barely stand. Those days often were the days where Professor Dufour invigilates her, one-on-one as she writes up what were most likely the worst answers she had ever given in her entire life. It's lucky she had all those extra credits, especially for Magiphilosophy.

She could've easily done without her exams – which she did out of necessity for her physical exams – and still graduate with honours, but it just didn't sit right with her. Normalcy becomes sacred once your time is running out, after all. She didn't want to be wheeled around on a throne as if she was on a parade. A throne made of broken futures, of misplaced pity and fame.

She just wanted to be able to pretend for just a few hours that everything will be alright. She just wanted a chance at the future she was promised, at a future where everything was... okay.

If taking exams was the way to do it, then she would gladly do so. Time does seem to freeze in those pin-drop situations.

She was well versed, at this point, with the fact that all things come to end, with only a single examination left to sit. It so happened to be one of the elective courses that she took this semester, _Interdimensional History and Current Events_ , which meant that most of the students were done, as electives were tested last. At Alfea, only the history of your home realm and Magix was required, with interdimensional affairs being for those who were more interested in the historical aspect.

Tecna, Bloom and Layla were the only ones who took the elective of the Winx, and all three were mostly done with the course material. Bloom, as per usual, took an extra moment to linger over the book; having lived most of her life not knowing that magic existed, she took every opportunity to 'catch up', as she put it. Tecna herself just found it interesting, and Layla had been more or less forced to take it by her parents.

That being said, her eyes were becoming increasingly heavy, and she could barely focus on the chapter title in front of her. Chapter Six: Recent Major Interplanetary Disputes was a somewhat amusing chapter in retrospect, due to the fact that Tecna herself was mentioned in there, albeit a little indirectly.

"– the winning parties consisted of the 5th Squadron from Red Fountain and the Winx Club. Notably absent was Bloom 'Peters' Sparks, who had been –"

Her head began to throb, a dull crushing sensation which ate away at her resolve to stay awake. The hand she had been using to prop up her head was slowly slumping under her own weight, fatigue conquering.

Sleep. She couldn't keep her exhaustion at bay, no matter how hard she tried to cling to the words of the Darkar Era.

A slight hand grasped her shoulder, preventing the cup of tea near Tecna from being spilt. "Tec, don't push it."

She couldn't even reply, her words not cooperating; it felt as if she wasn't even in her own body. It couldn't have been Tecna. But it was, pink pixie cut and all.

A soft chuckle sounded behind her. "You were literally part of that Era, girl, I'm pretty sure you could ace that based on memory alone."

The chair was slowly being dragged under her, a sliver of the action visible from under her weary eyelids. "Get some rest."

She was gently lifted and lain on her bed, legs splayed awkwardly over her duvet before being tucked in. Somewhere, a clock chimed.

The voice came back, soft and soothing, a tinge of sorrow laced in the words. A lullaby, low, swaying lantern-like, floated in the air.

She drifted off, not knowing what awaited her.

* * *

 _"Good night."_

The sky was still a canvas of blues and warmth, the hues barely deepening. A stark contrast to inside the room, where the only source of light was a soft desk lamp, illuminating the music sheets that lay scattered on the desk.

Musa had taken it upon herself to take care of her roommate – much to the latter's chagrin – making sure that she got enough rest and was comfortable. A task that proved easy enough, as the opposition she met was feeble at best.

She should be pleased, for it made her assumed role easier to carry out. But instead, her heart broke into two whenever she heard the soft mumbles of disagreement from her friend, something that was completely out of character normally.

The Tecna she knew would not have gone done without a fight. Damned portal took it all away.

Sitting beside her bed, Musa heaved a heavy sigh, tears pricking her eyes when she caught sight of the sleeping girl. In sleep, she seemed all the more fragile. Like a porcelain doll.

The steady rise and fall of her chest did nothing to reassure Musa. She knew that she should be grateful for the fact that she was still here, but how grateful could one be for the smallest spark left of a person?

Dragon, she's being selfish. So, so selfish.

But was it wrong to want someone to stay?

She wanted to cry but she couldn't, for what right did she have to cry when she was the one with good fortune? She could very well be the one betrayed by her own magic, but she wasn't. She was well.

She was the one with a future.

The slightest noise caught Musa's attention, causing her to tilt her head up ever so slightly. She could barely see through her unshed tears, but even so, the light that flooded in through the open door was evident.

"Musa." And Musa started, suddenly, almost knocking over the chair she had been sitting on out of sheer surprise.

Riven's silhouette blocked out most of the light in the hallway, casting the room back into the darkness it had lain in. Without waiting for an invitation, he strode into Musa and Tecna's – a title she will emphasise – room, footsteps heavy in the silence.

Musa shot him her fiercest look, which admittedly made the most docile of kittens look fierce in comparison. But she stood her ground, her question spelt out as clear as day on her face.

Riven cocked an eyebrow; even in the low-light Musa was able to see the frustration simmering just below the surface. "Do I really need a reason to visit my girlfriend?"

"Go have a temper tantrum elsewhere. She's sleeping," Musa _hissed_ , voice low to not to disturb Tecna – she swears on the Dragon – but she was coming extremely close to cracking and screaming in his face, "and by the Dragon she needs it!"

She didn't when she advanced on him, but she was now immediately in striking range, close enough to feel the forced exhale Riven let out. "Look, I didn't come here to pick a fight. I just wanted to know whether you were okay!"

"So," nostrils flaring, she seethed, "you think I can't take care of myself?"

"Of course not! I just don't want you to," and he deflated slightly, catching sight of the scene behind Musa, "break down. Dragon, that was crass."

The sincerity poured into his words, and a flood of shame overtook Musa. She hadn't meant to take out her anger on Riven. He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.

She twiddled with the idea of an apology, but he beat her to it, running a hand through his hair. Musa noticed for the first time how it had lain flatter against his head as if it had been relegated to a lower priority. "I know, I'm not the best person at... listening and all that. But for what it's worth, I'm here for you. Promise."

She didn't even know why she decided to trust him; their relationship, at best, was rocky and wasn't really teeming with good communication, but something about his frankness drew her to speak.

Musa sighed, fresh tears glistening in her eyes. "It's just... I don't know what to do. She's slipping away in front of me and I can't do anything," and her voice caught, everything crashing over yet again, "but watch as she sleeps! Dragon, she could just be... gone any moment and I might not know! I– I hate this, feeling so powerless."

Her legs buckled, almost sending her crashing to the ground, but she's caught by strong arms that help shoulder her weight. Strong arms that don't seem to mind that she breaks apart in their strong hold.

"It _is_ cruel to just have her linger and not die–" a pause, "damn, ignore me as I eat my own foot."

That managed to bring a strangled laugh, drawn thin by fatigue, but a laugh nevertheless.

Riven released her from his hug and brought her chin up, a smile on his face. "But see, you can still smile! There's no point in beating yourself up for something out of your control. Just do something to keep you occupied. It'll help."

Walking over to the slightly illuminated desk, he picked up a blank manuscript. "You could write music."

She was brought back to the day where her father destroyed the songs and music, sheer grief powering his actions. All the voices and emotions were trapped then, songs stuck in bird cages.

"Give your feelings a voice. You can do it."

She took the paper from his outstretched hand, looking at it carefully. Silence.

She sat down at her desk, but not before addressing Riven. "You're being scarily out of character."

A half-grimace pulled at his face. "I try, but it's scary."

And she smiled back at him, at the goof of a bad boy that she called her boyfriend. The same guy who jumped straight into battle was scared of feelings. Irony at its finest.

She scratched down the first lines of the song, Riven's presence a comfort.

 _Don't be afraid,_

* * *

Riven had gotten back after curfew, practically bringing the door down despite his protests that he was being "as quiet as he possibly can". Timmy'd reckoned he'd woken up half of Red Fountain with the ruckus he made.

Riven didn't even tell anyone where he was going, he'd simply let with a mumbled "cover for me" and rushed out of the room. Yes, all their exams were over and all that's left was the result moderation, but that didn't mean that they could blatantly flaunt the rules!

"And where were you, exactly?" Timmy asked, a note of challenge in his voice. He had other more important things to worry about other than wayward roommates.

"Alfea," was the blunt reply. Riven shrugged off a leaf that had gotten caught in his hair. "I just felt like visiting."

Helia raised an eyebrow, finally glancing up from his notebook from where he had been scribbling furiously. "Staying out until this time at Alfea, breaking two schools' rules all just because you 'felt like visiting'?"

"And almost getting us in trouble," muttered Timmy under his breath. He felt Helia shoot a warning glance at him, trying to get him not to provoke Riven.

Surprisingly enough, Riven didn't hit back with a similarly barbed reply. Instead, he took a seat at their coffee table, crossing his legs as he stared off into the distance. "Fine, I'll tell you. I went to visit Musa, okay? She… hasn't been dealing very well with the whole…" he trailed off, seemingly choosing his words carefully, which was completely uncharacteristic of him.

"Oh."

Timmy couldn't blame Riven. Not anymore. He swallowed thickly, panic slowly rising. "How was she?" he asked quietly, and he didn't mean Musa.

Riven let out a heavy sigh, and Timmy could tell that he was trying to find a way to skirt the conversation. After what seemed like an eternity, he relented, voice low. "To tell you the truth? Not good. Hells, she..."

Riven could have finished his sentence, but nothing was breaking through the static that had taken over his senses. He couldn't focus. Damn it. He'd been sitting here at Red Fountain finishing up the final interview stage for his higher studies like a dragon-forsaken bas– why did he ever let Tecna talk him into not visiting her?

He'd called her that very afternoon, and she had picked up, voice uncharacteristically soft and... frail. He'd attributed it to the signal. What an idiot. He should've known it would have been just like her to vehemently refuse any help. He shouldn't have let her convince him to leave her be, that everything was fine when everything was not.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to hurl Riven's no-nonsense tone against the wall and let it shatter. He wanted to do all that and curl up into a ball and Dragon, he's the worst boyfriend in the world and–

"Timmy, stop, you're going to hurt yourself," a voice behind him said, a hand clasping on his tensed shoulder. Helia.

"And she could be dying! Hells, she is dying right now and what if she leaves and she doesn't know–" his voice cracks, pressure shattering the hardened resolve. "I need to see her."

"She was asleep, Timmy. There's no point in waking up the other girls now." And as much as Timmy hated it, Riven was right. "There's also no way Griselda and Faragonda won't notice you charging into their school at this hour. At least I was able to blend in with the leaving visitors."

Timmy hated this. It wasn't fair. She didn't deserve this. She saved the dimension, dammit, and this is what she gets.

"We should've been discussing our chances of getting into ITM," his voice was broken, catching on unshed tears he hurriedly blinked away. "I can't do this."

"Timmy..." Helia started.

It had been their dream to attend together. No, their plan, a carefully constructed flowchart of their life after they've both graduated from their respective schools. And it's now just… gone.

Timmy turned to the general direction of his room, steps quickening. "I need to be alone," he muttered, one hand on the door handle and the other at his eyes.

The door creaked open. Admittedly, he won't be alone for long, since he did share a room with Riven, but it was better than nothing. The room was dark enough to feel like so.

He'd better get used to it.

He curled up in his bed, with an aching dulled only by the comfort of a fitful sleep.

* * *

It was cold. Cold in every sense of the word.

His hands were curled around a transmitter-receiver, one that he had only ever used once.

A shiver shot through him, and it didn't have anything to do with the cold.

The Omega. What the hell was he doing back in the Omega?

The transmitter in his hands suddenly beeped rapidly, and he started, fingers fumbling to find the coordinates. Frustration curled up in the air around him as his fingers _kept slipping._

She used to be so easily frustrated, he recalled with a pang, until they fixed their stupid communication issues.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, breath frosty in the air. The red dot pointed to... directly in front of him?

He wasted no time. He ran, boots scuffing up the ice underneath him. He had to rescue her. And this time, he was not going to fail her.

The air grew darker still, and his footsteps started to dampen. He kept running, keeping time with the adrenaline and fear coursing through him. He can't fail.

And he suddenly skidded to a halt, just barely in time to avoid skidding into the pairing transmitter.

He picked it up gingerly as if it might fall apart at the slightest touch. It definitely held tells of her workmanship, the slim-built side just right for her hand.

It glowed, slightly off-kilter, as if it was trying to communicate. His eyes followed the pattern that flashed, and then he saw.

"Tecna?"

She didn't respond.

He screamed, voice tearing. "Tecna!" Somehow, he found a strength within his broken resolve, and rushes over to her, chest heaving from the effort.

He grabbed hold of her shoulders, already frost covered, and shook them, gently, not wanting to hurt her. Frost crackled underneath his gloves. "Tecna, love, don't..."

His voice came out strained, punctuated by sharp inhales and flurries of frost. The storm howled, a deathly quiet scream that tore open a hole and consumed him whole. And yet, she was so _still_.

It was mocking him, the snow, mocking how he picked her up and clung on to her fading body like a vice, mocking the tears that stung his eyes and heart far more than the cold ever did. A keening cry tore through the air, slithering through the arms of grief.

He woke up then, heart racing and blood rushing, the cold still coursing through his veins.

Screw the fact that it was still five in the morning. All the heavens wouldn't be able to stop him from seeing her. Maybe Tecna could, because, by the Dragon, he was so _utterly_ in love with her.

He needed to make it up to her, and he'd be damned if he left her hanging again.

Timmy rushed out of the dorm, beating the sunrise by an hour. Red Fountain didn't technically have a rule on how early you could leave in the morning, so it wasn't as if he were being hypocritical. He also did leave behind a note, explaining where he had gone, so that the others wouldn't think he had been abducted by the Trix or something.

Gods, all he could think about was how he hadn't been there for her. Yes, it was at her request but– Dragon, she has every right to decide on what she wants especially... but it just seems cruel to leave her.

How much of it he was doing for himself was debatable.

Time had never been on his side, and he soon found himself hovering outside of the Winx's shared balcony. In an increasingly rare occurrence of luck, Tecna was curled up on the couch near the balcony, nursing what seemed to be a cup of coffee.

Gods, even with her slept-in hair and wrinkled clothes she looked ethereal.

He watched her, gaze soft, as she noticed the slight hum of the idling hoverbike. Setting down her cup, she made her way over to him.

"Hey," she said.

Silence fell between the two, lingering even as he hoisted himself onto the balcony.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, unable to bear it. "I'm sorry for not being there for you. I'm sorry for abandoning you and I understand if–"

She flung herself onto him, embracing him tightly as if she were afraid that he'd slip through her arms. Never.

"I was trying to protect you," she whispered, voice hoarse from emotion. "You don't deserve this. You don't deserve losing someone, none of you does."

He wanted to weep, weep for the irrationally selfless girl in front of him. But he couldn't find the strength to, and instead tilted her cheek up gently to kiss her.

Those lips of her, they could extinguish the brightest of flames, douse them with the purest water.

She was too good for the world. An imperfect girl far more perfect than anyone else he'd encountered.

And he was going to lose her.

He held her tighter, as if he could keep her from slipping out of his grasps. But she fell through the gaps between his fingers, like wisps of smoke; fairy dust that escaped in wafts.

The slightest fleeting taste of salt disappeared along with the contact.

Timmy leaned in once again, but this time he rested his face in the crook of her neck, his hands trembling as he hugged her.

He was breaking bit by bit, chipping off by the second. He couldn't. He wasn't strong enough.

It was selfish, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He wanted her here, with him, by his side.

"I love you," he said, with certainty. "I love you and I could never, ever forgive myself if I'd left you here alone. I'm here for you, love. Don't you _dare_ push me away."

And it was so illogical, so stupid, but he couldn't care less. For her, he'd throw all caution to the wind.

"I'll stay with you, then. Promise."

The sheer impossibility of that statement stung. But he stilled, unmoving, being her rock as she fixed herself. Nothing else mattered, except for her heartbeat going strong. They had each other, and that had to be enough.

The sun rose behind them.

* * *

She got worse. Her body failed her, and her magic betrayed, dying.

But her heart still went strong. And that was enough. Had to be.

* * *

He tried to stay strong. To live life. As she would've wanted.

And he could do just that, the letter hopefully holding the key.

* * *

He visited every day. The nurses even knew him by name. He pretended to be annoyed by their treatment of him, of how they doted on him and gave him free cups of tea, but he secretly enjoyed it.

He also pretended not to hear the pitying whispers.

"Good morning, cupcake!" he called from the entrance, unopened letter in hand.

"And what can I do for you, mister I-got-accepted-to-ITM?"

Her words were softer, but the teasing hint was obvious. She reached over to kiss him gently, and Timmy gently cupped her cheek in turn. He could feel the warmth that resided there, but also the tug of her smile as she leaned back, resting her forehead on his momentarily.

"You know, I haven't opened it yet."

"As if there was a chance you didn't get in."

Another version of the event flashed in his mind, one where they both clutched crumpled acceptance letters that were crushed in their hug, where they both made their way to Magix's Plaza to celebrate.

He held up the letter. "Do you want to do the honours?"

She chuckled, taking the letter from him. "Gladly, sire," and she grinned, carefully peeling off the flap.

Timmy scooted over to her side, gazing intently at the folded piece of paper.

"Ready?" she asked, fingers poised to unfold it.

"Of course."

She was right, naturally. He'd gotten in. But why did it feel like he'd stolen it?

She reached out for his face, catching the tear that had rolled down his cheek. He sent a crooked smile back at her, one that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Hey, it's okay. You should be happy."

He hummed slightly, closing his eyes. "I am."

He lied.

The clock on the wall drawled on, striking off each second with abandon. Outside, the world kept going. Moving, changing, accelerating without ever pausing for anyone.

"I'm proud of you. Really, really proud. You deserve it."

 _And you did too._

It killed him to see her like this. To see his vibrant and vivacious Tecna so pale and withdrawn; it brought an ache he'd never thought was possible. He would've done anything for her. Anything.

Gods, it was so _unfair_.

She hadn't even been able to get a proper treatment. Nothing like that had ever happened in history, anyways. The doctors just smiled and upped her dosage of light and energy potions. It hurt even more.

They weren't doing a great job of lifting her hopes. Both a blessing and a curse. It hurt him so, so much to know that she knew.

Just last week, he and Tecna had gone out to town to celebrate the exams ending. Just the two of them, hand in hand. It had been a good day, one of the last, one that ended shrouded in darkness and fairy lights.

Now they were at Magix's Hospital (and not Zenith, for Tecna didn't want and couldn't travel far), celebrating his acceptance with sorry glasses of hospital tea.

But he sat by her side. Forced a smile, choked out an unconvincing excuse for his sadness that cracked as soon as he got it out. But then he realised, that there's no point in simply wallowing in his miseries when she's still there. For so precious little time.

"Hey," he said, turning her attention away from the letter. "Have you heard about the new Realmberry?"

And so they talked, as if everything was okay and tomorrow was assured, about the new Realmberry that is set to be revealed next year (bittersweet, since both of them knew she wouldn't make it to then), about the new specs that were geared to be announced. He'd bet on an improved holographic display and she on the magical integration of virtual reality.

"So that, you know, people can live in someplace better. Even for a little while."

He didn't miss the hint of resentment.

Tecna looked straight ahead, not meeting his eyes. "It would be revolutionary in care. Patients could be soothed using viable copies of their loved ones. They wouldn't be afraid anymore."

Timmy smiled sadly, " _Don't be afraid, I'll be right there_."

"Poor Musa," she giggled, a tinge of sadness remaining, "you're butchering her song with your awful vocals."

None of them particularly have any skill in singing, but Tecna manages to pull off a soft soprano. A voice befitting angels, even if it were a bit pitchy.

A song about not being afraid. How someone would never be alone. How there'll always be a place where you can find someone. She continued, voice full of awe. He was in awe.

"She really outdid herself with this one. How did it end again? Was it _the night will give way to a better day?_ "

"I don't think she's finished. I heard her asking Riven for suggestions."

"Riven? Wow."

"I know, right? I didn't know he had a single poetic bone in his body; that's more of Helia's forté."

"Imagine Riven reciting Musa poems." she snorted, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. " _Hey, Musa? I've got a poem for you._ "

Timmy deepened his voice and mimed running his fingers through his hair. "Uh... _Roses are red, violets are blue_ –" and he burst out laughing then, the imagery too much to bear.

They sat in comfortable silence afterwards, not needing to say anything. The other's presence was enough. Equals in everything. No one needed protecting, just companionship. A person to lean on as they heal. No damsel in distress, no hero who fixed everything. Just... the two of them. Enough.

"Zenith," she said suddenly, quietly, "is a realm that prided itself on adventure. It's named after the tallest peak on our mountain. Exploration leads to new discoveries, Zenith's true passion. So, we had to make a home – some place to ground us, really – somehow, one we couldn't leave behind."

"With the people you care about," he answered, realisation dawning. That's why she didn't care for going back. "Although love is a foreign concept for many, you still have some trace of it. People mattered more. Such an irony."

"And people back at Zenith still debate about it." she smiled back at him, a hearty one even if it were tinged with fatigue. She turned to his side, and he caught a glimpse of the girl she had been. "We're being so illogical."

"I'd say it's fairly logical to not keep any secrets and be more open. Miscommunication _is_ a serial killer," and he knew himself, for he once had almost been a victim.

She seemed to ponder his statement, a faraway look in her eyes. She'd always been thoughtful. Straightforward, but purposeful.

"Love you," she whispered, slowly, surely. "Love you to the Golden Kingdom and back."

She left him with a faint kiss on his lips. The bed was far too small for the two of them, but neither of them seemed to mind.

"But you know the one thing that Zenith got right? Your home is always a part of you."

She shut her eyes, the barest of flutters. Her hands entwined in his. Home.

"You'll never be alone."

His breath hitched. He wasn't ready. No.

He waited. One. Two. Three. Four.

"Tecna."

"Tecna," desperate, foolish, inconceivable hope.

"Tecna," he choked, silent tears falling as he cradled her. "Tec, please, _no_."

An error in her logic. Someone's always left behind. Something's always left behind. A mark. A scar. Physical. Mental.

She could be free. And he needed to let her have it. He needed to be selfless for once. Strong. Brave.

He needed to be her hero. Don the suit with the ghost of a heart.

"Go," he murmured, broken, letting her go. "You deserve better."

Even if he couldn't get a happy ending, even if she couldn't get a perfect one, she shouldn't be denied a chance, of her respite. He loved her too much for that. He loved her too hard. Her before him, an imbalance of the world that made perfection impossible. Someone always loses.

What about in perfect happy endings, the kind in fairy tales, the ones where everything is sealed with a kiss and happiness? Don't they all win?

No, for perfect happy endings just seem like an ending. It's in reality a temporary stop, before the true end.


	9. hereafter

_And, finally, the story continued, for perfection was a farce, was it not?_

* * *

Time itself seemed to have suspended. But the clock on the wall had kept moving and he had not been able to move, as if he was shackled to the past that seemed to tease him, just out of reach.

 _And the lovely nurse who often covered for him during nights he couldn't bear to leave her kept gently clasping his shoulders, insistent._

 _"It'll be okay," she murmured, tone soft and empathetic. But it's not going to be and he's selfish selfish_ selfish

* * *

Her eyes were shut, face still and with a calmness he had not seen in months. An urge to brush away a lock of hair that fell out of place made itself known in the back of his mind, a small gesture that suddenly felt foreign and wrong, too intimate in the absence of a soul.

He knew she was gone.

* * *

Maybe it was at the urging of the nurse, or maybe it was of his volition, but he slowly made to leave.

Disentangling his fingers felt as if he was unravelling his soul, bare and vulnerable and fragile–

And somewhere behind him, whispers of encouragement and affirmations of bravery echoed, but he turned only to find pursed lips and stardust left behind from supernovae.

He turned to catch one last glance, but they'd already draped a cloth over her face.

* * *

It was so quiet by his side. Idle conversation and the clack of heels on marble echoed in the cramped space, where he stumbled down the hallway looking for an anchor.

But smooth walls are unforgiving and silence is deafening, and he's never quite realised how much silence expands in light of an absence.

Her laugh, her voice, gone gone gone and _silence_ –

* * *

–was her worst nightmare. She hates it with a passion that rivalled the one that she holds for lilting melodies and harmonies. But truly, would anything exist without its opposite? Light and dark, day and night, music and–

Oh dragon, the silence.

It pressed on all sides of her unrelentingly, like the chiding of a concerned friend–

("Musa, go to _bed_. You shouldn't rely on artificial energisers this much.")

–trapping her in a bubble, a new alternate reality all for herself (and oh, what wouldn't she give for all this to be a farce, a fluke). Déjà vu broke through the haze and red-hot fury and grief burst through what little was left, remnants of a time where they thought that seen their friend's demise at the hands of the Omega Portal.

(They'd thought they'd been lucky, that they'd found their friend seemingly unharmed and well, but now she's actually gone and Musa really doesn't know what to do.)

Stumbling, Musa reached the top of the stairs, almost colliding into a couple with a newborn in their hands. A stuffed phoenix hung from the baby's hands and it cooed happily as it reached out to grab a lock of the woman's hair.

She tore her eyes away, stinging from what felt like a physical blow.

In a way, hospitals were fascinating. They held the tender beginnings of life within their cold white walls, nurturing and fostering those souls as they grew and blossomed. And yet, just down the same hallway, you might just find people trying their best to navigate their newly-shattered lives, picking up the shards of what they once knew as it crumbles in their hands.

But some, brave souls they are, some _managed_ blind and deaf and bleeding, taping back together those shards without a spark of magic.

She'd seen him cry once before, in a torrent of vicious denial that she had thought back then was borne of a pain incomprehensible. But now she knew that it had barely held a candle to true heartbreak, which ripped at a soul with sanguinary devastation as one tried to hold themselves together.

It's a cruelty that she would think twice of bestowing upon Valtor himself.

He extended his arms towards her, an open invitation for an embrace which gutted her as much as the news did. It's a gesture so achingly familiar to her, one shrouded in the dark night light of Alfea's dorms, when the music had played its final dissonant coda. The gesture thrummed with her spirit, a flame-forged essence of nobility and kindness and compassion–

It was the ache so deeply embedded in her core that pushed her to unwittingly stumble into his shaking arms, tears pooling in her eyes. The world seemed to burn silently, the floor giving out beneath her feet and her magic cowering in the absence of stability.

Stability. The hum of idling devices, the blinking of lights, a constant background chorus that she had taken comfort in, taken for granted until it was violently extinguished.

She allowed for a brief caesura.

Then she bore his grief on her back for he _didn't deserve this_ – and none of them did, but the world had never given a damn about what she wanted – and grasped his shoulders, gently ushering him out to the hospital lobby as they had no business here anymore, no tether of significance that would justify haunting the hallways.

"Let's get you home, okay?" she whispered. Any louder and her voice would have fissured.

His face screwed up a fraction more, opening his mouth as if to say something more. But he seemed to decide against it, snapping shut in favour of faint acquiescence.

They walked down the halls in silence.

* * *

Riven and Helia were at the lobby.

The news (and news it was, silent destruction where one would expect at least a singular spark) had trickled quietly, through an automated Realmberry notification that had cued the start of Musa's (and their) morning. A small background chirp, a remnant of a routine that had shattered the ceilings with a sort of maniacal glee. They all saw it coming and were simultaneously blind to it (the ensuing blaze a dazzling eclipse), so how were they to contain the aftershocks and wrap it under a cover of normalcy?

It's just as futile as throwing a sheet on a rigid stiff figure, believing it to be something that could be amended through simple appreciation of the silver linings.

( _Silver linings, like that of a half-finished circuit, a glacial thief, of slabs of metal and thunderstorms that shock and throw a whole system into a clean override–_ )

It would later come out that Riven and Helia had tried to go past the visitor's section along with Musa after they saw her run in with a franticness that could only mean nothing good. They hadn't known and had found out purely by chance, having been in the area to pick up supplies at the mall. Funny how it takes a specific chain of events to get to a certain place in time, no? Percentages may fall to the hundreds, to the limits of the sky, but the strings pulled to reach that number? Knots of slim pickings, with the means to the ends as vast and immeasurable as the universe itself–

 _(–one that would have ceased to exist without her, but now his universe was gone and so was his home–)_

But nevertheless, that didn't change the fact that what was done is done, and Riven and Helia were at the lobby.

"Do you guys want to get out of here?" said Riven, a strange expression on his face. It was as if grief and normalcy were battling for dominance there, resulting in a distraught sort of comfort. It pulled at the corners of his words, barbing the edges to a point of discomfort.

Musa shifted, drawing close to Riven as if to gather strength. Her fingers entwined with his as he gently pressed a feather-light kiss to her damp lashes.

It's a reckless kind of abandon, really, to make your abode a soul when one is so easily extinguished, no matter how bright, how brilliant.

He tore his eyes away and focused on Helia's soothing arm on his shoulder instead. He had a similarly anguished look on his face, but more concealed, wary of the sprinkling of people loitering, existing, nearby.

They were drawing stares. Curse their fame. Curse the cause.

"We need to," Timmy replied, the words bitterly exhausted on his tongue. "We're drawing a crowd."

"I can't– I can't go now," Musa protested, fingers curling inwards as they disentangled from Riven's. "I need time. I'll be fine–"

Someone snorted at that. It wasn't hard to guess who had, in hindsight.

"–, I just need more time. I'll catch up."

Everyone needed more time.

But they left anyway, Timmy included, leaving and an attempting to let go, _let go._

* * *

When they all left and Musa was alone, she sat on the stairs outside and crumbled.

A whisp, a faint ghost of a breath and a smile, wind-caught; that's how the world ended, that's how everything imploded.

She'd never known that the destruction of a world happens so quietly.

* * *

But as quiet as the end of the world may be, the aftermath of it was anything but.

Headlines were blaring by sundown and all Layla wanted was to sink them to the depths of the seas.

They were no strangers to attention, that is true. But _Tecna Vitalia dies aged 18_ , splashed white against a flickering black backdrop, seemed particularly vulturous in motive when the ashes had not settled yet. It was a nauseating speed, the glare of over-publicised achievements and perfected lives, a banshee wail of public mourning that roiled in her core.

But even so, behind locked wards, the news seeped in silently, like foam rolling in on a shore of a beach.

It was none of the high-pitched lamenting. It was Musa, stumbling in, clutching a piece of paper as if it were an unravelling lifeline, tears quiet in her grief. They would have come with her, but they had been kicked out one time too many, to the point where they were imposed with a strict rule of no more than two a time.

( _A mutant chandelier and the roaring of poorly extinguished flames came to mind. She'd laughed heartily as they were escorted out, a bright sound cut short by the slam of a door and a ban.)_

Stella made as if to speak, but Musa shook her head, shoulders wavering, and that was that.

That had been a few hours ago, a few lifetimes ago. By now, the reporters had finally stopped swarming Alfea's grounds, even the most persistent of stragglers. What morals do they even have? Layla snorted inwardly. Morals, fairness, they were all the same and dead. But it was not like the talks stopped with the banishment. The conversation of it carried well into dinner, which was far more subdued and dark than a dinner near a year's ends tend to be.

Near graduation.

They were so close to graduation.

Layla's knife screeched against her plate, fists clenching at the fairness of it all.

Of all them, she deserved to see graduation the most. For all she's done, she's sacrificed–

( _You only needed to save one person, remember? But hey, you wouldn't be our resident overachiever for nothing!_ )

She would have been a shoo-in for guardianship. But the past is in the past, as she was now and all the glory that would've been ahead of her. It's a heart-rending realisation and the world seemed to have stalled for it.

Dinner melted into twilight, into the flickering stars that hung over Alfea's grounds. The night was hushed as if waiting, waiting–

But waiting for what? For Magix to right itself on its axis? For the universe to freeze, reverse to the rising sun and mend the awful split from the rightful timeline? To silence the mocking call of _she's dead and gone, and so is all the fortune in this world?_

But nature is fair, as cruel and kind that is, and gives no second chances.

The headlines may have ceased their blaring ( _temporarily, as all things are_ ), but duties have not. Layla received a summons from the court of Andros as if to solidify that notion, for a public show of mourning as a representative of the royal family.

Layla wanted to drown this whole Dragon-forsaken world and all its pretences.

* * *

Zenith and Andros were teetering on the axis of war, and Layla could _feel_ the quiet heartbreak that ensued from the mere possibility.

What started as Andros reaching out to Zenith for possible negotiations of servitude in memorium had lead to a faintly disguised fight under the pretence of formal negotiation. The two warring planets were so utterly set in their ways, with Andros seemingly giving too little and Zenith asking for too much.

The atmosphere was charged with despair only realised in worst fears and nightmares.

"–Andros offers its condolences, but we cannot claim that much of–"

" _Enough!_ "

The committee had stopped at that, jaws unhinged at order upheaved, waiting, waiting–

But Layla would, could not stand by.

(–not anymore–)

"I may speak out of turn, but I cannot let this foolish argument stand for any longer. Tecna gave up her life for the notion of peace and prosperity and you all are disrespecting her very memory with this ridiculous infighting! Did you ever think of what made her do what she did?"

"Princess–"

Layla ploughed on, ignoring Chancellor Gails' attempts of silencing her.

"Yes, she sacrificed herself for Andros, risking her life for my kingdom's security. She earned her Enchantix for it, despite being a member of your realm and not mine. Do you know how she managed to gain it?"

 _("Her eyes, there was so much hope in her eyes!" and there had been, and Layla'd never met a Zenithian, anyone, with a bigger heart then hers–)_

"Yes, should the Omega Dimension have been allowed to collapse upon itself, it would have resulted in a shockwave around the entire magical dimension. By saving Andros, she saved us all, and it was a rational decision, as what was one life in the face of many? But just as logical would have been to realise her worth and to flee, to fight another day."

 _(And she had fought, a raging storm in the face of death himself, and come out victorious. But all storms came to pass eventually and so did she.)_

"What matters is the fact that her actions were an unadulterated wish for harmony between us all, a love for the universe she had learned to cherish and nurture. Zenith, I acknowledge your views on love, of the chaos that it creates, but it is a chaos that allows us all to celebrate our birthright and our unity under the Great Dragon."

"Zenith, Chancellor Inventi, I know your grief. We know how much you mourn for her and our hearts bleed with yours. But she would not have wanted our nations warring. You taint her legacy by even entertaining the thought of such. That does not negate the fact that we are indebted to you. I swear on all of Andros' oceans that I will do everything in my power to ensure that Andros does not forget it."

Layla turned to her parents. Much as she loved them, no-one in the room was completely devoid of fault.

"It was on our shores that Tecna laid down her life for the betterment of the universe. We do not have to be complacent, but I believe she is deserving of more than just shallow words and temporary memorials."

There was only silence.

Layla had either set off a diplomatic disaster or a–

* * *

 _Historical Show of Rapport between Zenith and Andros_ , the headlines blared. The same picture flashed on paper and screen alike, of both ambassador and rulers of each lighting a teal lantern and letting go, letting go–

A lull in the swaying, in the rocking, as the lantern is released, as the lantern makes its languid way towards the Golden Kingdom.

Another picture replaced it, this one on the island where it all began and ended, one that depicted an intricate shell arrangement being affixed to the centre of it all, just where the waves can't quite reach.

"It was beautiful," Bloom had said when Layla came back from her two-day trip, a wavering smile on her lips.

* * *

(as breathtaking as the macabre beauty of oceans boiling over, of higher order blown apart, of the lingering light where a loved world once stood)

* * *

The sunlight had torn asunder that day, an exquisite show of dusky hues that had rippled on Alfea's grounds.

And of course, it had been a grand affair. Spotlights of gleaming stardust were merely a boon to the soirée, a white-hot dazzling celebration of achievements and happenings–

(of which was an incandescent burn so bright that it could have been mistaken for a black-out charm, like something was being forgotten or perhaps simply cast away– an upset so distressing that it was best to _lock away, cast away–_ )

Of course it had been a grand affair. Stella had made sure of it, fragment by fragment. After all, when else had Alfea been witness to such a momentous occurrence? Especially one so fleeting, one a passing of such speed and such attribute that Arcadia herself may have noted.

( _bitter, bitter spotlight of the first-order, a sacrifice so cruel it could drive the purest, the bravest to selfishness and think it to be the better option_ )

Something of such scale should only be bequeathed with the most opulent of arrangements, of the most grandiose of perfections that could have been smelted by the Great Dragon themselves. Stella had dived in to answer the call, drowning in the details that had to be attended to, responding to the need and pulling it out of what had been laid to waste.

But yes, of course.

First, attendance was in order.

This event at Alfea would only be the first of a series of events, both of which would have a star-studded RSVP list. The Magix council would be in presence, and so would representatives from the kingdom of Andros. Surprisingly – or perhaps not so, for it's been coming – so was the Linphean Liberian Society, a realm whose relationship with the technocratic Zenith had always been frosty at best. That would have to be taken care of, so as to prevent any clash between the guests.

(but no clash could have outclassed the one that had resonated a fortnight ago–)

But details, details! That was what counted the most, what can make or break an event, no? If there was one thing that Stella was able to do, it was being able to laser-focus on every crease and imperfection of an event and to bring it back to the radiant glory that is expected of the crown princess of Solaria.

So she had kept herself busy doing just that, and the results had been absolutely dazzling. The entire area had been transformed into a venue with gilded roofs that soared above the attendees, a shimmering material that only served to further accentuate the stars that had just started to realise.

(one, two, three, four stars and more–)

Now, Stella would admit that the decor actually seemed quite understated for the affair, with the star-studded guest list that Solaria's system might be jealous of. The centrepiece was–

Ah, yes, was next to a most resplendent arrangement of frames. They were silver-lined, a darling accent to the whole set-up of the event. As customary, there was also a flickering hologram that stood unyielding, stalwart, with its light glinting off the ghostly silver that surrounded it. The seats were also of a similar fashion, wiry ones arranged into four sections.

The first row, six chairs, was almost full. One chair was empty.

The sun was still dying. No matter. Wouldn't be official till the last rays blink out, till the very last lavenders and violets and teals give way to a murky quiet. Even so, the night was just as beautiful as the day. Like Solaria's moons, set against a thousand pinpricks of light that made the sky look like a diamond-encrusted veil.

But...

It really wasn't the same.

It wouldn't be.

Guests were trickling in now. And yes, it was a grand affair, but it grand in the way the air was choked with loss and the enormity of the occasion. Yet something still felt missing, like something just out of grasp but so tantalisingly close, like a feeble glimmer, a wraith.

In the midst of it all stood a banner; taut and blindingly white, it was like a bloodstained surrender. It stood crooked at the entrance.

With a strangled cry, she nearly flung herself to the piece of scrap, hands quivering as she attempted the charm that would get it to fix itself, _damn it_!

It had to be perfect.

Dragons, it cannot be anything less than perfect, she'd work so hard and by _the Celestials she cannot ruin this, cannot add to the upheaval that had already befallen–_

She'd promised them. Stella'd been the one to wipe away Musa's tears, to silently take the responsibility of befitting arrangements from her. Along with Bloom, she'd been the one to personally see that... That...

Gods, she'd thrown herself into this whole affair to salvage the burning remnants of what should've been post-battle bliss.

Her magic sparked for a brief second, then flared out, banner giving one last flutter.

It was an utter _joke_.

Her Radiance, Princess Stella Solaris, heir to the throne? She deserved to have her crown crushed under Valtor's foot. Her kingdom would _fall_ under her reign. Couldn't even handle a small gathering without it crumbling into dust. Couldn't even do the bare minimum of keeping order.

She couldn't quite see the banner in front of her anymore.

Something inside of her, even when cloaked in the mourning that she had come to be regretfully familiarised with, viscerally rejected the notion of reality. It was something that she just voluntarily blinded herself to, a verity that she just couldn't comprehend. Now it was just there in front of her, with all the subtlety of a violent slap.

And by Solaria, she didn't know how to _do this–_

The banner was suddenly lifted, a gentle tug that Stella raised her wavering vision to meet. It was a young boy, with electric eyes that she could've recognised anywhere. He slowly made to continue the help he was giving her.

She didn't say thank you, but he did. In lieu of a reply, she embraced him with all the force of stars being torn asunder, trying to put into actions what words couldn't comprehend.

And it was a grand affair and it certainly wasn't over (and likely will never be), but sometimes the grand scope of it all had to be ignored, even just for a little while.

(but sometimes it built into an ache that never quite dulled, or it enveloped one in a loneliness that haunted even in a room full of people)

* * *

Everyone had left, but really, it didn't take much logic or brainpower to realise that that was the norm for a graveyard in the dead of night.

( _someone should have chided her, someone should have sent her a flat look that was somehow equal parts miserable and amused–_ )

Musa clutched her unfinished manuscript tightly, crumpling the sixth bar that held a scratchy "-lone" written. She needed to finish this, for her, and Musa couldn't think straight under the heavy cloak of sorrow and she needed, needed her, like light needs dark, like sound needs silence–

She _needed_ her, but she was gone and the absence manifested in her damned tribute that reeked with the grievous weight of one that had lost too much and continued losing. Musa's been scrabbling for purchase her entire life, but even Enchantix, sacrifice-powered wings, only allowed for a brief flutter of comfort and that was that.

But somehow, it turned out that the idea of visiting an empty lot in a realm she barely knew in the dead of night was not as knuckleheaded as an idea she thought it was, for someone else was already there, kneeling knee deep in artificial grass. Timmy, glasses-clad and with eyes that matched.

But then again, no one was there to dissuade them.

She thought he hadn't noticed her, but he turned to her, face half-lit by the two moons of Zenith.

"Can you stay?" he murmured, voice wavering in the soft breeze. "I don't really want to be any more alone."

She knew that feeling all too well. She sat next to him, casting more shadows on the dimly lit marker in front of them.

"I've never had magic in my life. I was just Timmy, you know? A good enough engineer, maybe a little out of his depth at Red Fountain. I knew where my place was. I knew who I was. Maybe some wouldn't accept me for that, but it didn't matter. I met the guys; I met you all."

"And I met Tecna. She taught me there was more to life than technology and inventions. She just... she means so much to me," his voice cracked, palms working at the material of his jeans. "It wasn't love at first. More like a strong infatuation with the gorgeous fairy who actually _understood_ what I was blabbering on about. But over time..."

The air was sharp with anguish, one that Musa was all too well acquainted with.

"I want to remember her. Gods, I want to remember the Tecna who gave me so much but all I know now is this void and just what I _lost_ ," and the words were spat like they were vile acid, "and it's just so cruel because she doesn't deserve any of that. I want to remember how she could add ridiculously large numbers in her head. I want to remember how she would never let me win at _Wizards and Warlocks_. I want to remember how she'd laugh at all my stupid jokes."

"You," Musa swallowed, heart even heavier, "you must really love her, huh?"

"She wasn't just my girlfriend; she was my best friend, my better half. Now I'm just–" Timmy paused brokenly, as if searching for a word that could even begin to cover the enormity of the quietus between them all, but he conceded in the end and settled for "lost." And it was such a small word, made all the more minuscule in the gaping abyss they were in.

Musa fought valiantly to keep the tears at bay. She wanted to offer comforting words, but how could she when she was every bit as lost as he was? She knew how it felt, and the cold bite of Omega was nothing compared to the sting of your life being uprooted, inside-out until nothing is recognisable.

"I get what you mean. It feels so wrong. Like I overstayed my welcome or something. There's just something– It's like she just left us with..." she trailed off, eyes catching in the distance.

"With something unfinished?" A hollow laugh. "Yeah, I get it. Pretty uncharacteristic of her, right? She was always so meticulous. But I guess even she couldn't have prepared for this."

A missed cue. "Dragon, I miss her," and her words were wet and gods, she could almost feel the phantom hug. "She was so selfless and it just seems so cruel that she won't even _graduate_ with us. Hells, she didn't even get to hear the end of this damned song!"

"Is that what's on the paper?"

"It was for her, you know. Music wasn't exactly... welcomed at my house after my mother passed. Tecna was one of the first people who encouraged me to pick it up again, although back then I didn't really listen. I owe so much to her, but gods, it's like that day again and it's just so _lonely_ –"

"You know, the last thing she ever told me was that I'll never be alone," he offered her a wavering smile. "Ever the optimist at the end, wasn't she? Wanted to make sure we were going to be okay after it all."

 _Never be alone_. Musa rolled the words on her tongue, trying them on almost reverently. They slotted in like they were the refrain of a long-dead melody.

"Maybe one day."

* * *

Worlds passed. Systems passed. Days passed.

People passed.

Of course it was a momentous occasion. This is the day fairies – anyone – whittle themselves to the core for, the end goal of years of studying and unimaginable sacrifices, so of course Timmy came with the rest of the Specialists to watch the girls graduate. They were his friends, after all, the first few outside his family to truly accept him for who he was.

But he wouldn't deny that it felt empty, especially next to Helia's lovingly potted lillies. But he couldn't really complain at all, as Helia's delight and pride for his girlfriend radiated from him in waves, something so very palatable that he couldn't help but crack a small smile.

Three years. The Trix. Darkar. Valtor. They've accomplished so much in three short years and Dragon, this was the least that they all should get for everything they've done for the Magical Dimension. All of them.

"Shouldn't five of them be there?" Timmy turned to Helia, who at this point was struggling to make himself known from behind the towering plant.

There was Stella, anxiously fidgeting with her clothes, Musa and Layla behind her and Flora bringing up the rear. It's quite a shame that Bloom wouldn't be included due to her incomplete Enchantix, but–

"My Enchantix isn't really complete, remember?" Bloom said with a sad smile as she walked up to them, Sky in tow, "I'm just grateful that I get to be here."

The girls were finally called to the stage (or rather, behind the carpet that seemed to function as such) and took their places in single file, shuffling to fill in a gap that rehearsals hadn't quite gotten them accustomed to. It didn't take much time for them to settle in front of their respective trinkets (one, two, three, four). The fifth was lain to the side, a single white rose accompanying it.

Timmy turned back to the ceremony, heart smarting from the sudden reminder. It really had been nothing more than a lapse in memory (and gods, could he be blamed for forgetting when all he had ever considered was her beaming and his heart aching with pride and not of a bitter pining?), but he wanted nothing more but to crush the twisting sourness under his foot.

A phantom brush of lithe fingers traced his cheek as he watched each get her scroll and gift. _It's okay_ , someone whispered while ghosting the lids of his eyes, _we all get our due deliverances_. It's whispered with the confidence of a fundamental truth but he now saw the scale tipped so steeply to imbalance. Maybe it's one of the laws of the universe that were actually upheld, and they were so few and far in between, but really, the happenings could hardly be considered as anything more than unjust retribution.

If his congratulations were half-hearted and verging near cheerless, no-one seemed to fault him for it.

* * *

On some days, the world was kind.

He'd wake up, blinding sun searing verity into his mind as soon as he cracked his eyes open. Those were the days of torturous truth, where nothing is left to the haze, and he knew those were the better times. He'd take the hollow feeling of loss, an itinerant ache that nagged at him to _count your blessings, one two three four, you're still breathing and hurting_ , he'd take it if only to relish in the anchor that accompanied the dragging morning.

On other days, the world was cruel.

The light would cradle his weary soul and soothe it, and he would pick up his phone out of habit. He'd think about clearing his schedule to spend time with her, guilty for not seeing her in a while. In his groggy state of mind, he would forget, and that fluttery feeling of content would revive for a brief moment or two, and everything would feel _right_.

But there would always be a metaphorical slap in the face, in maybe his copy of _Wizards and Warlocks_ with a player two that would be left unselected or the suit he'd worn both to see her off to a dance and to a grave.

And with that, the perfect illusion he had would shatter all over again.

Clutching his phone that had a chat with a deactivated phone number open, it was clear just what kind of day it was. Just the kind that stormed and flooded torrentially, strewing water-logged remains of a well-loved home inside-out, tearing through each possession systematically.

It's not in a literal sense, no, although it was quite ironic when compared to the state of his living quarters. It was almost barren, his belongings packed away into storage chests that would later be rehomed to Zenith. Only a couple items of his remained scattered around the dorm, knick-knacks whose existence had slipped from his mind. He still had a couple of days left to finish clearing out anyway.

All in all, a morning most sincere in its portrayal of reality.

His days now were often spent in a sort of dreamless daze, constantly tightroping the line between foolish, blissful, ignorance and the bitter truth. It's hard to function when loss was so tightly interwoven in your life. Pick up a gadget to fiddle with, a component will be glitching from a missing technomagic component. Pack up old textbooks to send off, coffee stains from a study date. Old explorer's watch, antique from Zenith with a frozen hand. It was maddening at best, a rage wrongfully brought about that he should be better about, _gods!_

But he doesn't have the right to. If this were the sacrifice that the universe required of him for the betterment of the world, he should be able to take it with grace, plunge into the portal as his better half had with no qualms. But he was a coward, selfish to the end with tears pricking at the edges of his eyes at the barest mention of the could have's and should have's.

He should pick himself up, forgive the bad draw he was given and dust himself off as best as he could, but he hadn't had an ounce of bravery and he missed her too much to do so.

He _knew_ with every neuron still firing in him that she wouldn't have wanted this. If she were here, she would have yelled at him, _don't throw away all this for me_ , fire in her eyes as she'd gently show him around all that he had, all that is left–

But that was the entirety of the problem. She wasn't here and he needed her back, everything was in shambles and _crashing, please come back what do I do with these plans without you?_

He doesn't even know how long it's been, but does it even matter when every day felt like an eternity in its own right, an eternal loop that taunts him each and every second and some, _hey, how are you going to afford the apartment that you've put a down payment on, it's only you now, hey, you bought double of everything what are you going to do, what are you going to do with–_

What was he going to do?

There's a reason why his role as a strategist fit him as well as his well-worn Red Fountain-issued gloves did. He may not be as nimble on his feet as the other Specialists were, but he's always had the knack for improvising, for strategising his way out of the unknown factors that life tended to throw.

But really? Sometimes he'd get so caught up, so bullheadedly assured of his own skills of adapting, of devising plans from thin air that he'd forget about the fact that life never gave a damn about the certainties and calculated possibilities.

There's a beauty in those unexpected occurrences, he was always aware of that. They brought about a sense of fragile awe, a childlike wonder that accompanied being the first to invent something just short of miraculous, to be the lucky one in love, to set your eyes upon a shooting star for the very first time–

He remembered the first time he'd ever done just that. The star had streaked so quickly across Magix's sky that he was almost sure that he had hallucinated it out of pure, vain anguish. What was one to do else when your addled sleep-deprived brain was told that _there isn't any hope left for her, Timmy, pray her last moments were spent in peace, her rest be peaceful–_

He had felt the very foundations of his world split right then and there, a chaos of agony that was anything but quiet. By far the worst moment of his entire life up until then, the pain of a lifetime succinct in a single night.

The real irony presented itself in the fact that really? The worst moments in life were actually quiet, peaceful, a breath that ripped his being into half, insignificant passages of seconds that suddenly ceased for those who mattered, they were never more but a slight stir in stagnant air.

The funeral had been quiet. Her dorm – what had been her dorm –, quiet, devoid of everything that should have carried the evidence of her presence, of her spirit and of her essence, as if she had never been there at all. His repair work for Red Fountain's security had been quiet, no-one to bounce off theorems with and possible upgrades that they could have made together. In the end, the negative energy detector had shorted out, narrowly missing his left hand.

"I'm sorry, I can't fix it without technomagic support," _not without her, worked better together–_

Headmaster Saladin had said nothing, just clasped his shoulder wordlessly as he walked out the door.

It really was funny just how interlinked life could be. He'd been there before, just a couple of months back, but it felt like another lifetime entirely, another reality where everything had gone right, had happened the way it should've. Yet again, the flat irony of how there was a common link between his bests and his worsts was almost enough to draw a laugh from him.

Would it have been better, to have rejected the small instances of happiness and adoration in exchange for the obliteration of this awful, _awful_ loneliness and ceaseless mournings? Was it truly better to have loved and lose or was it worse, to have _loved_ with every fibre of your being only to have it ripped away so callously?

In his hearts of hearts, he knew that the answer could never be the refusal of such.

There was nothing that could have even come close to equal to her worth to him. Nothing that could've compared to that sharp wit that had never failed to surprise him, to that singular focus that she exhibited when it came down to it. Nothing that could ever have compared to the almost shy nature of her affections, the hesitant prelude to her ardour that she slowly grew out of as time passed. Nothing that could compare to fond banter they had exchanged, once upon a time, nothing that could compare to that bright-eyed gaze that had so easily taken his heart–

That torturous teal that had so easily commanded worlds to a halt, brought the world to their _knees_.

That's all he thought about nowadays. Those little fragments of hope, he cherished the dying embers of them and kept them close to his heart, stoking the burns that they had brought along. He missed her with all the certainty of blossoming first love, missed the little bits that had embedded in his life so stealthily. Here was the closest measurement of infinity, he mused bitterly: it's the grief that follows you day by day, cycling in a loop that gave you too much time and too little at the same time.

His forgotten phone pinged, startling him. It was an email from ITM, a cheery automated reminder of the first dates for classes.

He should've learnt his lesson. Life knew no courtesy, and here he was again, and he hasn't cried this much since childhood, since that forsaken day in ice and snow with her and she's not here anymore–

Gods. She's really dead. Gods, Tecna's dead and she's never coming back and _what am I going to do without you?_

It was a hysterical question and the stupid logo flashed as it was dismissed, bringing back the echo chamber of a chat and a last seen far too old. Her profile greeted him warmly, as it always did and always will, and his phone went clattering to the floor at that, shoulders quivering as he was reminded of her lilt, _you should be happy I'm proud of you you deserve it–_

 _You'll never be alone–_

Her voice echoed in his head, heart quietly breaking as his imagination conjured her over and over again, and once upon a time that had been enough but now it isn't but a version of her is here, a quiet sort of bravery as she smiled at him, strong and unwavering.

Tecna was– had always been as assured as she was clever. A purpose drove her every action – had driven her to her death – and there had never been a shadow of a doubt clinging to any action, any word of hers.

 _"You'll never be alone,"_ was clutched close to his chest, a whisper almost too fragile to comprehend. His tears still slipped under the frames of his glasses, and they would for a long time coming, but accompanying them was a halting sense that everything will be okay, and maybe it won't be now or tomorrow or next month or year, but it will be and those words? Those words were said with such confidence that brought on another heaving sob, but there too was a faint echo just out of reach, a presence just so illogical that he almost laughed, for just over a year ago logic had ruled over his heart and look at where he was now. But that's love, no? Chaotic to boot and now heartbreakingly exhilarating.

But, that's okay. It was chaos, unpredictable hurt and he knew it would continue to thrum mercilessly as the mournings went by, but in the midst of it all would be the girl that had captured his heart and made him feel _alive_ , for there was no humanity without the wounds.

He clung to those four words like a vice, one two three four, hesitantly, carefully.

What was he going to do? The question still raged on ferociously, unimaginably colossal. But he started formulating an answer to it, slow-going but it's okay.

Some days will be kind, some days will not.

 _(It's okay. I'm proud of you. Really, really proud. You deserve it.)_

* * *

When someone dies, it was not just the simple act of the cessation of breaths or heartbeats or their magic influence. It was not even the loss of a bright future, not even the loss of many presents, of many more growths and highs and lows. Yes, death was the culmination of losses unfathomable condensed into one small word, but that wasn't even the beginning of the impact.

Death casted figureheads and the larger-than-lives away into the ground or sea or air or nothing at all, a clear distinction from the living. They were cast away from the living thought, shackled to the past and for all the influence they might have had when they were alive, none remained of it past death. They were at the mercy of the ones left behind, the ones unlucky enough to forge on.

Essentially, death stripped one of their voice. Their beliefs, their personality, their dreams and aspirations and hopes, all waived in a single moment and it's _heartrending_. One flourishing swell, an entire orchestra, it could be as grand as the Golden Kingdom itself, there is no discrimination in the silence

As the fairy of music, Musa could not stand by that.

Tecna may be gone, but there was no reason for every trace, every influence she had to disappear alongside her departure.

 _(–there will always be a place where you can find me–)_

It started as something so self-serving, something to drive out the silence that had settled so deep into her bones, something to sort through the maddening bird song that was caged inside of her. It started as something to soothe the hurt that she felt, but really?

It was never that at all.

 _(–the night will give way to a better day–)_

* * *

The lights dimmed.

Musa's red dress caught the barest of light that remained. Stella's dress was a work of wonder, and she really had to thank her for it. It was anything that was too flashy or too understated, and it fit like a dream.

This all was a dream.

This had been her dream since childhood, a budding careful thing that she had locked away, never expecting it to see the light of day. In a way, it hasn't yet, as Musa's first concert was scheduled for sun fall, where the first notes of her intro – her leading song – were scheduled for the very moment the sun dipped down beneath the skyline and the stars began to light the way home.

Now? Facing her audience, elation was bubbling in her as she waited for her cue, for the spotlight to blaze and for the next chapter of her life to begin.

In the audience, she saw herself. She saw the bright-eyed girl she had been, the one raised in a harmonious home. She saw the strong-willed freshman, she saw the budding musician, she saw the brave, terrified fairy–

She saw her father, beaming as she took her place behind the microphone. The seat next to him was empty.

Riven was seated not far away from him, along with the other specialists in the front row. The girls were there too, Bloom cheering as the lights came on, Stella enthusiastically leading a round of applause that Flora joined in with wholeheartedly. Layla was moving something at her, sending a thumbs-up at her.

In the middle of them all, a seat lay empty, save for a silver placard.

There were no words to describe the absolute exhilaration of completing a childhood dream, make no mistake, joy was humming a song of victory in her core. But the twinge of sadness still lingered, and Musa couldn't quite place the emotion that was behind the tears that welled up in her eyes as she took the microphone.

"Thank you all for coming to my first solo show. Before we start, I'd like to say a few words."

( _something changed so imperceptibly at that, something she couldn't quite place_ )

"The first song is dedicated to one of my dearest friends. I don't think I could ever even begin to describe her in words unless you guys are willing to stay for a couple more years," the crowd chuckled quietly at that, and Musa was reminded of terrible puns and sincere attempts of lighthearted fun–

She cleared her throat, drawing strength, composing herself to the best of her abilities–

"So instead, I'll leave you with her words. She had always been the wiser one, anyways. Not always _that_ articulate, especially with emotions, but she had always meant everything she did and said. She had a good heart and sometimes, that can be both a blessing and a curse."

It had made her who she was, but had also taken her so early, so _unfairly_ –

Musa took a breath and with it, all the hurt of the past year, the stolen moments, the grief and the unfairness of the odds. She let the ice-cold burn settle, all of the overwhelming loneliness and quiet–

"She believed that no-one in this universe is ever truly left to face the odds by themselves. That you're never far from home, and that home was not just a physical place, but the people that you cherish. It took me a long time to understand, but I think I'm starting to get it. The power is left with us. We can choose to uphold or dismantle any legacies entrusted to us."

"Hold those you love close to your heart, and it'll be like they never left, like you'll never be alone."

She exhaled quietly, letting go, letting go–

The sun sunk into the horizon, a wondrous show of purples and reds and oranges as the sky exploded into a celestial dazzler. Musa summoned her instruments, commanding the orchestral backing to begin as she picked up her concert flute.

The silence was shattered as the stars exploded above her, casting the stage in an otherworldly light.

 _This is for you._

Musa launched into a melody that she had poured her heart into, a breathless nightingale's ballad with trilling notes that has just started to resolve. It was a delicate melody, just like the healing that had begun–

The wounds were still raw, and of course they were, because they all lost a dear friend, Timmy had lost more, and it had been a cruel, merciless loss. Finding her only to lose her later. Some days, it still doesn't feel real.

But the world never gave pause for anything. There was no choice but to march on.

Truly, the bravest were the ones reassemble their shattered world even as the dark magic threatens to overwhelm them.

The flute thinned, ringing out a solitary reedy pause. A caesura. Take a breath, give it her all.

All around her, the lights hummed with electricity.

Musa smiled.

 _Don't be afraid–_

* * *

 _"Tecna!" he tentatively reached a hand, scared that it was all a vision too good to be true. But she never blurred, never wavered, her form fully solid and_ oh, he could cry right then and there.

 _"Timmy," she said breathlessly, trailing the surface of the ice. They were_ _so_ _close. "Just give me a sec, I'll get you out of there!"_

* * *

 _"I don't want to drag you down with me, Timmy."_

 _She gained the courage to look up yet again, into Timmy's face. For the first time in the history she'd ever known him, she couldn't read him, couldn't decipher the emotions that flickered in his face. She's done it now. He's going to break down and cry and it's all because of her, the person who stomped on his heart and left it–_

 _And then she was scooped up with such_ ferocity _that made her want to sob more._

* * *

 _"I'm not going to abandon you for whatever illogical reason you've convinced yourself with. We're in this together."_

* * *

 _"Zenith," she said suddenly, quietly, "is a realm that prided itself on adventure. It's named after the tallest peak on our mountain. Exploration leads to new discoveries, Zenith's true passion. So, we had to make a home – some place to ground us, really – somehow, one we couldn't leave behind."_

 _"With the people you care about," he answered, realisation dawning._

* * *

(and it won't be long _–_ )

" _But you know the one thing that Zenith got right? Your home is always a part of you."_

(you'll wake up strong _–_ )

 _And that was her home, his home, it was their entwined hands, the faint kiss that tasted like a gentle goodbye–_

(the night will give way to a better day _–_ )

* * *

"You'll never be alone."

Timmy mouthed the words, ones that were familiar for many reasons.

(Bright eyes, sincere smile, an ethereal spirit that he would declare his love for, even in one, two, three, four years and more _–_ )

Tecna wasn't here but she was. It's an illogical statement, but love transcends, destroys even the highest of orders, and it was welcomed to upheave everything he'd ever known.

Perfection may be a farce, but what they do best was make the best of the wreckage left behind, pick up the pen and write their own version of a satisfactory ending.

For if the universe was not going to do it for them, then who will?

Perfect happy endings? There was no such thing. There was only the next page, the next chapter, and the courage that accompanied every turn.

Perfection lay in the happiness forged out of nothing, in the perseverance in the face of the fairness of the universe, a near impossible feat, and he acknowledged it as such.

But, who was he to not even try?

Tecna believed in him and he wasn't alone in it.

And perhaps, that could be as close as they'd ever get to a perfect happy ending.

* * *

A/N: There's no such thing as a perfect end, but this is the final chapter of this fanfiction. I am not going to lie, the closer I got to the ending the more emotional I got and really? I don't even know where to start.

It can be one year, decade whatever from now and this fic will always have a special place in my heart. Ironically, ending this fic was hard because I found myself trying to give it the perfect ending it deserved and obviously, that didn't really work out. I had three drafts for the epilogue, one that was slated for the original December 2017 update, one for the first anniversary and a revision of the latter. Let me tell you, it was _hard_. This fic had always been a childhood dream of mine, to be able to commit to a long multi-chapter piece of prose and there really is nothing more fulfilling then to achieve a dream.

But truly, the real gift is in the process. I learnt so much and grew so much through writing this fanfiction, and I really cannot thank all of you who've read even just a sentence of this piece. Thank you from the very bottom of my heart.

Sorry I killed Tecna though LOL. I was seriously considering reworking the previous chapter to let her live because I felt so bad HAHAHAH but past me made that really tricky so I did the next best possible thing: try my very best to write the best damn healing journey for everyone. On that note, I'd like to apologise for any inconsistencies from this chapter to the rest of the fic, I tried my best to match it up but I have an absolutely terrible memory. That goes for any weird writing thing in this chapter too. I got into a massive writer's block during this chapter and didn't write for a good couple of months and as a result, I'm pretty rusty. I did my best to clean it up though!

What's after this? I definitely have some _much happier_ things in plan for these dorks, but no promises as to when they will be published because big changes are also coming up for me! But watch this space.

To end this, thank you so much again to all the readers (or rather, those left LOL), reviewers, followers, favourites. You've all made my absolute _day_ every single time. I hope this chapter was worth the wait.


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